


Rip Current

by Gumdrop_lou



Series: Sunsets with You [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, Canon Divergence, F/M, I researched but I know its not enough, My First Fanfic, Not Beta Read, Pre-Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, Ptsd written the best I can, Quarter Quell (Hunger Games), Romantic Friendship, for fun, prolly be bad but hey its free fiction, tagging is hard, we die like finn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumdrop_lou/pseuds/Gumdrop_lou
Summary: Thalia Ulysses thought she finally did it. She had won her games and she was washing her hands of every traumatic thing she had experienced in that Arena. It's the 75th Games and the Quarter Quell but this year there's a surprise, after Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark avoided a killing match by threatening to commit suicide a rebellion had been sparked. She's thrust back into the deadly game she had barely survived in once again.“You okay there?” I feel him sit next to me, the bed dipping with his weight. “Finn, they just let two victors win.”“Do you know what that means?” I ask staring deeply into his sea-green hues.I see his handsome face harden. He knows what I’m implying. The games should have only one winner, what they did there? That was a sign of rebellion, and the game-makers fell for it. I heave out a sigh, but then again some capitol citizens are too stupid to comprehend the weight of what those ‘star-crossed lovers’ just did.“Do you think this could lead to something more?” he asks slowly. I take a moment to answer. “That was a spark, let’s see if it catches.”
Relationships: Finnick Odair/Original Character(s), Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: Sunsets with You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933075
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfiction written for the Hunger Games Fandom because I had recently got into it again. The Characters do not belong to me but instead to the wonderful Miss Suzanne Collins. Thalia and the rest of the Ocs are all my own. Comments are very much appreciated 
> 
> p.s. I have tried to portray PTSD as accurately as I can, I swear I did some research but if any you could help me out in understanding it more, I would positively be thrilled! this is not to insult, offend or hurt anyone. I just want to write something that made me happy and wanted to share it with you. Have an awesome Day/Night/Afternoon and stay safe!
> 
> 10/10/20 - gonna be editing past chapters cuz this is just horrible. Be back the week after next week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have no business posting edited chapters during exam week but here I am *le sigh* anyways I fixed it - sorta -kinda- maybe? not sure but hey it's here. Hope you like the revamp and like if you feel like it drop a comment or kudos cuz it could really make someone's day, happy monday night or sumting or whatever day it is in your country.

**“Before I can live with other Folks I’ve got to learn to live with myself. The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.”**

**-Atticus Finch**

* * *

_“What are you doing, Kino?” I screech. The water had already swallowed the square and was coming towards us. He stares at me._

_“You’re going to win.” That’s all he rasps. “You’re going to win and you’ll go to the Victory tour and bring my family back this.” He raises an old locket. It was faded and scratched._

_“No, no. we are getting out of this together.” I desperately try to push him forwards. The water is even closer now but he stays in place._

_“Promise me, you’ll stay alive.” He chokes. “And you’ll escort my body back home, to my family. They won’t hate you, I promise. They know why this had to happen.”_

_I cry and continue to pull him. “Stop talking crazy, we need to run!”_

_“Four, Thalia!” It’s the first time he calls me by my name. it was always, Four._

_“In order to survive this, I need to swim…and I can’t”_

_I shake my head. “I’ll support you, I’M A STRONG SWIMMER!”_

_For the past weeks I had looked up to this boy, he protected me a lot of times and now when he needed me I couldn’t. I’m a failure._

_“I know you are.” He shushes me, brushing the hair that has stuck to my face. “But you can’t keep both of us up.”_

_“Stop it! I can, I darn well can! I’m the best swimmer in Four!”_

_“Shhh…” he calms me. “Even if we survive. It’s only us left. And I can’t – “_

_Then it struck me, one of us has to die in this flood or else, we’d have to fight each other. I can’t fight him and he knows that he can’t fight me either._

_“See? It’s better this way.” He unhooks the necklace and ties it on my neck. I realized now how much bigger he actually is compared to me. And somehow I had managed to haul him up a few meters._

_“You take care of yourself, when a chance comes take it!” I’m confused by his statement. What chance?_

_I make a move to ask but in a morbid comical way, the water had crept up and slapped us with its strength. I grasp at his hand desperately but he pushes me away. We are submerged in gallons of water. My hands continue to take a hold of him but he pulls away._

_On last time, he looks at me and gives me the warmest smile I had ever seen in my life then he slowly sinks to the bottom of the arena. A serene expression on his face. My lungs burn, calling to air. Against my better judgement I kick up my legs and break open to the surface._

_“Kino! Kino! Kino!” I call out hysterically. I kick at the water. I begin submerging myself again, maybe to look for Kino, maybe to kill myself. I’ll decide soon._

_“Kino! Kino! Kino!” my cries are desperate. It’s a pathetic thing to witness. The water started receding, as I follow the current. Screeching a dead man’s name like a chant._

_I take refuge when I grabbed into a large piece of rubble and climb atop it. My body was humming, my wounds were bleeding and all I wanted was to die. There’s a ringing in my ear when Claudius Templeman comes into the speakers._

**_“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 63 rd Annual Hunger Games. The youngest victor in History, Thalia Ulysses. The Pride of District four!”_ **

****

* * *

In all my years as a mentor, seeing something like this was expected yet unexpected at the same time.

One thing was certain, people would do anything to survive but It was unusual for a strategy like this to work so well as it had for these two teens. If I could clap Haymitch Abernathy on the back, I would.

Despite the atrocious acting and the sweet moments working as a team, I can never find myself to truly believe the little ploy done by District 12.

Star-crossed lovers weren’t something new but somehow they pulled it off so seamlessly in the past two weeks, playing it off so well for the entertainment of the viewers to get extra food and medicine. The boy was interesting in his own way but the girl? She had this magnetic energy about her – a fire that always seemed so interesting even before the canon went off. I think back on her moniker, the one the Capitol so graciously gave her, _Katniss Everdeen_ the “Girl on Fire”

Back then, I thought the name was rather tacky and awkward, “Girl on fire?” just because of a burning dress? But I quickly found out it fit her perfectly. From the very beginning, she was putting the game-makers through their paces, spinning the happenings to her favor in a way – with her unusual choices and unlikely allies. There wasn’t a day when her name wasn’t uttered once, even during her trackerjacker coma. It was clear who had the upper – hand here, surpassing even the first half favorite, Cato.

It became even more evident that they were going to make it to the top 3 when she was reunited with her District partner, who cleverly camoflouged himself into the side of a creek using the materials he found. He certainly wasn’t a killer, but he knew how to survive.

With the whole country in love with their little soap opera and the careful assistance from the outside by Haymitch, they gathered just enough attention for themselves that forced the game-makers to keep their hearts beating a little while longer. Soup was even sent down for the both of them during the night after Peeta received medicine for a really bad wound on his leg that was likely going to be amputated if he was getting out of there alive. Their dynamic was unusual and quite cringey at best but the Capitol citizens ate it up.

They had survived much together but I’m not sure if they realize that they were setting themselves up for the tragic end of their little love-story, their inevitable fight to the death the only thing that anyone would most likely talk about in the following weeks – even months.

Sticking together with someone during the games was a double-edged sword, in a way you have higher chances of survival but after that – when it’s just the both of you, what do you exactly do?

Not many tributes consider this strategy, especially tributes from the same District, it marks you for life when you are forced to kill but somehow it’s worse when you run your weapon through a person you have cultivated a bond with. Killing them for the sake of your own survival, selfish as it was, it’s the reality – not much can be done about it.

The guilt was lighter when you have no idea who the person was at the tip of your blade but when you know that they were someone – a friend, an ally – before the light faded from their eyes and all that was left was a husk of a person, just flesh and bones, nothing to distinguish them from the many bodies that littered the deadly arena – it eats you up inside with the guilt of up-ending something so real.

District 12 is the last one standing for this year’s games. I’m surprised as much as I’m disturbed.

As expected the two were faced with only one choice.

_Fight to the Death._

My co-mentor, Finnick is anxiously tapping a hurried rhythm on the surface of the clear glass he holds, I purse my lips – ignoring the annoying sound it emits. Richette, our escort has her eyes firmly trained on the screen, a mountain of tissue rolls by her side from her incessant crying earlier on. Her hot-pink pantsuit contrasting the emotions she is exhibiting.

“What do you think they’ll do next?” I hear him murmur. He wrings his hands in front of him. I shake my head, not offering any early judgement. What the two were facing was a hard choice, and I’d rather that they show me their decision than decide for them at the safety of being behind a screen.

_People will do anything to survive._

My eyes bulge out of their sockets when Peeta pulls out Nightlock berries from his pack.

_They can’t be serious._

The tension in the room is thick and heavy, almost over – whelming us as we take in what was happening in front of us.

We wait with baited breath as they raise their hands in unity, ready to die with one another. At the last second, Claudius Templemans’ voice filters through the arena.

**_“Stop! Stop! Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winners of the 74 th Annual Hunger Games. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. The Pride of District Twelve!”_ **

I reel back, my mind racing a mile a minute, thoughts swirling in a round-about pattern like a tornado, as I try to make out what exactly just occurred. My witless brain has nothing against the onslaught of ideas that it has procured for the ramifications of this event while at the same time, it tries to string about a coherent sentence to express shock but I can only manage a blank stare.

Scenarios for the consequence of this decision play mental backgammon in my head.

Katniss Everdeen exuded an aura of stupid loyalty, one that moved exactly according to her emotions, I expect it even overrides sane judgement in crucial moments and she harbored just enough of it for Peeta to think twice before plunging an arrow in his chest. While Peeta Mellark, he knew exactly what he had to do, the boy was cunning, always making sure to say the right things and make tough calls – and his “love” for her was just the perfect excuse to show an underlying hint of rebellion, even if he realized it or not

_Open defiance to the Capitol by way of forcing the game-makers to move according to what they wanted._

The room bustles to life around us as the screen goes blank and the District 4 team start packing up their gear, stuffing clothes and make-up brushes in large duffel bags until it was fat and compact like giant sausages, and hoisted on their backs.

I stand, biting the inside of my cheek as Richette bids us goodbye. Her painted lips touch the soft puffs of my cheek and heads straight out the door, waving as the elevator doors close on her. When she’s gone, I quietly make my way to the rooms.

Still unsure on how I felt about the situation and my mind still a jumbled mess.

The capitol prepared rooms were always extravagant, sleek grey walls adorned with abstract paintings done by rich citizens who think they have talent, the bed was made out of the softest material covered in satin and silk, deep mahogany wood made up the different furniture and trinkets lying around in the room – it was beautiful yet so impersonal.

A second pair of feet shadow mine as I make my way down the hall to my assigned room, not bothering to close the door as to let the person behind me enter easily.

“You okay there?” Finnick asks when he joins me by the headboard of the queen-sized bed, leaning on its plush lump like me. Our eyes stare at an abstract painting on the opposite wall, the strokes of white and blue melding in a perfect confusing mess on the wooly canvas. I try to gather my thoughts but all that came out was a breathy whisper.

“Finn, they just let two victors win.” I state, staring deeply into his sea-green hues.

His handsome face hardens and morphs into a look of realization.

“Do you think this could lead to something more?” he asks slowly.

I take a moment to answer. “That was a spark, let’s see if it catches.”

* * *

Finnick and I elect to stay until the crowning of victors. My stylist dresses me in a powder-blue wrap around dress. It had tight sleeves and a ribbon tying the dress together in the side. The over-all look was modest, maybe a bit too innocent but It’s nice in a way that the capitol citizens don’t drool after me like a pack of mutts.

They wanted me to keep up with the persona they have been pushing on me since twelve, that means minimal skin must show. Very proper, put together and dignified at all times, _even putting the highest socialites to shame,_ as President Snow once said _, the perfect marionette and moving according to what the puppet master adheres for her to do._

The memory of that conversation used to annoy me, especially with the way he spoke - all soft and admonishing as if he was talking to a child who had just realized they had done wrong and wanted to make amends. I was not a child – and I know I hadn’t done anything wrong but the way he spoke to me in such a pleasant voice while essentially giving me a manual explaining how he now had full control of my life angered me, to the point when it had finished I destroyed everything in the room they had provided for me to stay in.

Right before the end of my fitting, Finnick enters the room clad in a white button-up that had the first button undone, a blazer the same shade as my dress, and tight black trousers wrap around his long legs.

He leans on the doorway of the dressing room as I observe his reflection on the floor-length mirror. He has a rakish smile on his face as his eyes glazes over me appreciatively.

The shy smile I give him only boosts his ego, sauntering over to me with his usual cocky air.

“Aren’t you the perfect little darling.” He purrs at me, a playful smile on his face. I wave him off and stare into the floor length –mirror. My hazel eyes are lined with a shiny-blue shimmer, the make-up artist had done her best in covering up my freckles, opting to make my skin look like white porcelain despite me having naturally tan skin.

The regular nest of hair is wrestled into an elegant half-knot, twisting the top of my curls into an elaborate rose-pattern on the back of my head.

“Don’t you look dapper.” Thanking the prep team, and them giving me nods of approval.

“Dapper? That’s all? Erwan said I look gorgeous. Dapper’s an obsolete word.”

“Says who?” I indulge him.

He gives me a bright smile. “Says me.”

The team leaves as soon as I was ready, in order to get themselves sorted out too.

Finnick plops on the couch with a loud sigh, when he notices my stare he pats the space beside him. The couch is soft as I relax into the luxury furniture, Finnick extends a hand on the backrest, his fingers grazing the skin on my shoulder. The callouses on his fingers tickle me a bit and my eyes turn to him as he looks into the distance – content with the rare opportunity of peace.

I bask in the comfortable silence that we settle into, words not needed for the comfort of each other’s presence. My hand itches to fix an errant cowlick that has framed his forehead. As my fingertips touch the smooth strands, his eyes snap to mine and I nearly melt with the magnificent smile that paints his face.

“C’mon, Richette’s probably waiting for us by the elevator.” I shuffle up but he moves to lay his head on my lap like a tired puppy.

“I say we wait a little longer, you know let her wig fall a bit before we join her.” Finnick has a glint to his eye that tells me he’s up for a bit of mischief.

“Oh, Finnick.” I let out a long-suffering sigh, I stroke his hair. He relaxes into me. “We have to go.” With that I lightly pinch his nose and softly push him out of my lap.

We are ushered into a car and are driven into the President’s Mansion, a large imposing structure with an unnecessary mile-long stairwell leading up to the house. I grimace, knowing full-well only blisters on the soles of my feet would come out of this night.

The door opens and a myriad of questions are thrown at us, paired with the blinding flash of cameras, it is pandemonium at its finest. Finnick’s capitol mask slips on. He smiles and preens like a peacock. I want to smack him but I’m amused by all the ladies that fall on their knees at the sight of him. They ask us ridiculous questions, him about a new beau he was last seen with and me, about opinions regarding this year’s visit.

It’s always the same thing – to the point where it has become cumbersome but if we were to please the people, we were to indulge them with whatever whim they had wanted. A man with a microphone catches my attention as he was elbowing his way past the torrent of crowd, not even apologizing to a woman whom he had smacked in the eye.

Sometimes I wonder if the real barbarians were them rather than the District people they so looked down upon. When he shoves the mic on my face, I merely smile and move on despite his shouting of my name.

I have no time for people like that.

Finnick holds out his hand for me as we head up the steps, the familiar feeling of glares drilling to the side of my head reminds me to keep my distance from him. Of course, this makes him frown but I shrug it away with a soft smile. Richette fawns on the fancy decoration and the “elite” guests we were to meet there, the unmistakable gleam of greed for connections ever present in her contact-covered eyes.

Large French doors guarded by a man wearing a candy-cane colored suit meets us at the top, without as much as a smile, he opens the doors and inside was a migraine-inducing party, colorful heads and extravagant outfits – a hodgepodge of ridiculous trends summed up together in one room. We make it a few steps before people start flocking him like moths to a flame. We get separated in the throng of people.

“I’ll see you later.” I whisper to him as I’m pushed by all the men and women clamoring to get his attention. Finnick smiles apologetically before turning to the small woman basically hanging off his arm.

The party was grand, befitting the flamboyance of the President and his citizens. Colored lights were shining overhead, tropical flowers were arranged neatly in white porcelain vases lining the giant staircase and walls. A chandelier glinted high above us while an orchestra was happily playing music for the aloof party-goers, all seemingly in their own little world

“I think I see one of my friends from my University years.” Richette tells me. “Why don’t you go mingle my dear – make some new friends?”

“Have fun.” I say. She happily flounces away in a heap of yellow satin. The others have also excused themselves, either finding friends or new acquaintances in the crowd and soon enough it’s only me left in the middle of the giant ballroom.

An avox passes by holding out a tray of wine glasses. I recognize him as one of the many servants of Snow that was always present whenever he had a massive party to celebrate. His head was down and his expression timid and afraid but turned into a somewhat smile as I tap his shoulder and murmur a soft hello. I had never learned his name but we had built a sort of familiarity over the years, cruel as it may seem, I see him as a reminder to keep my toe on the line or else I was to suffer the same fate.

As soon as I thank him, he bustles away to serve other guests who have drained their glass and were sourly looking for someone to fill it, that or someone to berate – what’s a Capitol party without an Avox being slapped across the face after all?

Refusing to see what fate would meet him, I busy my attention to look for a place I can sit and wait out the excessive party until we were free to go home.

I’ve never been a social person but in times of need I do it. If speaking to Capitol clowns ensure another breathe of life for my tribute, I’d do it in a heartbeat. The plush seats were the most appealing thing in the room at the moment, the dance floor was crowded and the buffet table had way too many chatty people littered around it. As soon as I settle into my seat an airy voice calls me.

“Miss Ulysses.” Gilderoy Penn stands in front of me, a purple drink on his right hand. “Fancy meeting you here.”

A groan attempts to escape my mouth, here I thought they’d leave me alone. Some citizens don’t understand the concept of personal space and he, sadly was one of those people. I put my little purse on my lap.

“Gilderoy.” I greet, plastering on a smile. “I see you have been invited to President Snow’s grand party.”

He laughs with a pitchy tone and sits down uninvited, I suddenly feel uncomfortable. My skirt is long compared to that of the costumes I see here, yet with his sticky gaze I couldn’t help but feel more exposed than I should’ve had. His modified face leers at me, the skin of it looking stretched and worn.

“I am so sorry about your tribute.” He says with false sympathy. “Decapitation.” He shakes his head. “A ghastly way to go.”

I could only smile over the rim of my drink, already dreading the conversation I have to endure. At the corner of my eye, a bronze colored head pulls a woman up the steps into where the guest bedrooms were at. Worry stews washes over me.

_Our life is not ours, and it can never be ours ever again._

“Yes” I clear my throat. “I’m thankful that it was painless.”

“Anyway, I hope you made good use of that hefty sum of money for the boy.” His ugly mug forming a smarmy smile. I resist the urge to punch him and his cosmetically enhanced teeth.

“Yes.” I move away but he inches closer. “It was enough to get him more food.”

He rests a hand on my thigh and I count one to ten. Making a scene in the mansion would only end badly. His hand inches higher and I grab into a pillow, ready to bash his head in.

“Ulysses, I knew it was you.” A woman wearing a green pantsuit interrupts us. Johanna Mason comes towards us, her face in a smug smile, she doesn’t even notice Gilderoy.

“Miss Mason.” His clipped voice greeted.

The victor waves him off. “Anyway, I thought you went back to your fishy lair with water boy.”

I smile thankfully at her. “We decided to stay a while, see the new winners.”

Though I had not seen even a shadow of the winners all night, it isn’t really on my priority list but I saw Haymitch by the drinks table earlier.

“Same, maybe we’ll get to see them next year, instead of that drunken ass, Haymitch.” She leans on the couch making a point to invade Gilderoy’s space. He huffs and gets up.

“Well, since I have been rudely replaced, I’ll see you in the next games Miss Ulysses.”

It always amuses me on how easily these folks get offended when we do the same thing they have been doing to us for years.

He straightens his glittery silver suit and turns on his heels like a petulant child. Once out of range, I turn to Johanna and offer a bigger smile.

She raises her eyebrows.

“Thanks for that.” I say. “Gilderoy can be rather handsy.”

She lets out a bark of laughter. “Handsy? Yeah, no kidding.”

“What really brings you here to the party, you’re not the type to scout out new friends.” I take a sip of my drink, she scowls.

“I want to see for myself the “star-cross-lovers.” Making quotation marks with her fingers. “Witness the shitty acting first hand.”

“It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” I tease, she crane’s her head to the buffet table. “Since I’m here, I think I’ll gorge myself with a little finger sandwiches.” She turns to me. “You okay being alone?”

“Yeah.”

When she goes to get up, I hold her arm and whisper. “Thank you, really.”

Her brown eyes soften before she says in a clipped voice. “You can thank me if you don’t go around telling others about this or else they’ll expect the best from me.”

She inclines her head to where Finnick has emerged, hair messy but not an article of clothing out of place.

“And we don’t want that.” I joke

Johanna returns it with a cheeky smile. “no we don’t.”

With a swish of her ponytail, she’s gone. I head towards Finnick who has exited the room and enters the garden. The blazer has now been unceremoniously thrown to the ground as he stands still as a statue, the hard panes of his back stiff with tension

He heaves a sigh of relief when I stand next to him. There’s a red welt on his neck and dig into my bag for some wipes, wordlessly hand him the moist material that he accepts. He moves to hug me but remembers where we are.

Cameras could be anywhere. Instead he opts to give me a tired smile

“Do you want to go back?” I ask him. He nods and says he has to make a few goodbyes before we could officially retreat to our floor back in the mentor’s building. The music is muffled here compared to inside. Cold marble cools my warm hands as I lean back and admire the twinkling stars. A marble bench beckons me closer by the side of a fountain with an angel gushing out water from its mouth.

The night is cold, the breeze unforgiving as winter draws near. Despite the biting air, the light of the stars brings me comfort with the constant company it has given me throughout the years but along with it came the dark, which my relationship to was quite complicated. The stars knew all my secrets, and unfortunately the darkness did as well.

Puffs of smoke escape my lips as I breathe in the crisp air.

I suddenly notice that I’m not alone, the heat of another person’s body coming up right behind me, I stay completely still, when I feel tem reach for my shoulder I turn, grab their hand and twist their arm behind them. The intruder lets out a familiar groan of pain.

“Haymitch?”

“Hello to you too sweetheart.”

“What brings you here?” letting him go, shock evident in my tone. My hands coming to knot themselves above my stomach, mimicking a stance of a school teacher who had just caught a student from doing something wrong.

He rubs at his arm, what surprises me is the fact that he didn’t let go of his glass of whiskey. It realy shouldn’t make me laugh but a hint of a smile threatens to spread across my face. Haymitch gestures to the seat and I usher closer to the side, giving him enough space to sit.

He looked better than the last time I’d seen him, at least now he had clean clothes to wear and smelled like half a perfume bottle was dumped on him but it still wasn’t enough to snuff out the strong aroma of alcohol.

We weren’t exactly friendly but we tolerated each other enough to be on first name basis after years of being mentors. During the parties with sponsors, he’s usually passed out or drinking with Chaff but ever since Katniss Everdeen’s entrance, I was shocked at how much he charmed and joked with the sponsors, securing enough money to send supplies to “The Girl on Fire”.

It was like seeing a new person, albeit he was still a bit tipsy, there was no denying it was the Haymitch Abernathy I did an essay on during my last year of school. The charisma and humour spot on.

“Same as you, enjoying the scenery.” He grumbles, though his words are mildly incoherent due to his alcohol intake.

“Congratulations.” I raise my glass. “They’re going to eat them alive.”

He grunts a response and gulping down his glass of whiskey. He then pulls out a flask from inside of his jacket. My eyebrows raise up.

“Well, enjoy your kidney failure waiting to happen old man, see you next year.

“Thalia.” I turn.

“Before you leave tomorrow, meet me in the rooftop, bring your boyfriend with you.”

“And what are we going to talk about there?”

He sets his jaw, covering up a grimace. “Oh, just things. Can’t three friends just enjoy a moment on the roof together?”

I smirk and give him a two-finger salute.

He doesn’t call me again.

I close my palm over the gold doorknob and pull it towards me, the smell of expensive perfume and alcohol mix in together.

I push through groups of people and find him talking to the same woman from earlier. There’s a blank look in his eyes as his thumbs fumble in front of him as if he wasn’t completely there while the woman babbles about some random topic, slapping his arm in a flirtatious manner.

He’s clearly uncomfortable as he doesn’t repeat “clients” twice. When he sees me approach he breaks away, mock sadness in his tone as he tells them that my old age makes me easily tired. I don’t argue, I just want to leave.

We find Richette among her little friends, squealing like a harpy as the amber liquid in her hand sloshes back and forth with her movements. The group greets us and attempts to persuade us to stay longer but Finnick insists he was spent and wanted nothing more than to curl up with a blanket.

His answer endears him to the people and we are sent on our merry-way.

As we head down the stairs, I feel him shaking beside me, my attention comes to him as I watch his face turn red and choked sobs started emitting from his throat. It’s subtle at first before gradually increasing its tempo.

“Hey, hey, hey” I whisper, pulling him into a dark corner. The camera people had all headed home by now and all the people by the front lawn were either drunk or passed out.

“Finn, breathe” I call to him, cupping his face between my fingers, he has that far-off look in his eyes that I know means he’s lost to this world. I continue to soothe him, humming a melody that I have learned from Mags.

I feel his arms circle my waist and he pulls me towards him, he quietly sobs into my chest. I feel the tears soak the front of my blue dress, no doubt making a watery patch from where his tears and sweat all come together.

My soft words do no help to him because he continues to sob louder and it might alert someone of our presence. His muffled cries tug at my heart as I remain powerless to the turmoil going on inside his head, I can do nothing but just hold him as he fights back against the monsters that plague him, a battle I cannot help him with.

An idea pops into my head as he burrows deeper into my chest almost trying to melt into me like he wanted nothing more than to be someone other than himself at the moment. My hand runs through his unruly hair and I start to recite a little poem we both had learned in Childhood.

_Come to the beach_

_Where the sea is blue_

_And little waves come running at you._

_A wave comes splashing_

_Over your toes_

_You just stand still_

_And away it goes._

_We’ll build a castle_

_Down by the sea_

_And look for seashells_

Disoriented eyes peek up at me before adding,

_If you’ll come with me.”_

Finnick still has a glazed look in his eyes as he tries to reign himself in. His cheeks are red and puffed after his crying –forming a red rim on the whites of his eyes while his breathing continues to come out in a hasty short huffs. I try guide him down the grand stairs and doing my best to avoid being seen by anyone.

The sleek black car waiting for us is parked right under a canopy of a large tree. Our driver doesn’t say anything as I discreetly lower Finn’s head to hide the redness of his face, playing it out like he just had one too many drinks.

Thankfully, he seems to accept it – even making a joke about the night was still young. Finnick continues to lean into me, unmoving as the chatty chauffer makes small talk, highly unusual considering how chipper he is for someone who had to wait outside in the chilly air like a dutiful dog waiting for its owner to return while we were inside gorging ourselves on food and drinks.

The back of the car is dark, once in a while he would check the rear-view mirror to see if I was listening to his story or laugh at his little jokes. I almost feel sorry for him with the way he was constantly looking for approval, even the barest nod of my head – that I’m not even sure he could see – his eyes light up and he confidently delves into another story.

I don’t have it in me to tell him to stop so I just sit there, an arm around a six-foot tall man who is almost draped around me while I try to humor a noticeably lonely driver, a while into his anecdote of his potted plant, Finnick reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight, the cold dampness of his palm not bothering me in the slightest.

Soon we round the corner of a usually busy street but due to the late hour there wasn’t any traffic and drops us off at the empty entrance of the Mentor’s Building.

“Thanks for humoring me by the way Miss Thalia.” He says as I was heading out, I turn to him and catch a knowing smile on his face. This is the first time I notice that he doesn’t have the posh Capitol accent but instead something rather gruff and heavy.

“Not a lot of people try to be polite to us.” he admits. “But thank you, I hope you and Mr. Odair have a peaceful sleep.”

He tips his black chauffeur hat at us then the engine rumbles to life and the car disappears into the darkness, the headlights blinking red as the final thing we see before it is completely gone.

I didn’t even know his name.

* * *

The elevator up is swift and Finnick starts to gather himself, leaning on the glass wall instead, his arms folded in front of him and eyes downcast.

A head of a security camera blinks green above us, letting us know that it was recording everything we were doing. I look out the window and see the city lights below us, and it reminds me of fireflies in the dark, each light representing a different life and a different story.

As soon as we enter our suite, Finn plops down on the large windowsill with a vacant expression. I drop my bag on the miniature plastic white coffee table and sit opposite of him.

“I can’t wait to go home.” He says casually, lacking the warmth it normally held.

“Me too, don’t worry first thing tomorrow we’ll be on the first train home, little Finn.”

A flash of a grin crosses his face and he reaches over for my hand and places a firm yet reverent kiss on my open palm, his sea-green eyes capturing my own in an intense stare that made my heart do little tumbles.

“First thing tomorrow.” He repeats.

The agreement with Haymitch lays heavy on my mind but I sense that he just wants to crawl into bed and just sleep. Hopefully, he won’t be too cross with me when we have to delay our ride a little back.

“I’m going to go freshen up.” I say standing up and cupping the side of his face. “You should rest up as well.”

He leans into my hand for a moment before nodding.

I make my way to my room and hurriedly pull out some clothes and bathroom essentials to use. My eyes are heavy and begging for sleep and I want nothing more than to jump on the soft bed and fall into a deep sleep.

The door to the bathroom is a frosted glass with gold door-knobs – only the rich citizens are able to afford. Inside was a spacious room that was decorated with white marble counter-tops, a large porcelain bathtub, white tiled floors and at the far right a rainfall shower.

I approach the shower not really in the mood to soak myself in water.

I flinch when I turn on the water, brushing off the nagging feeling in my brain. The current is strong reminding me of something else. I feel my heartbeat quicken. _No, stop it,_ gripping the glass door and try to control my breathing. I tentatively reach out to test the water, it’s warm. Okay, that’s good.

My arm extends and goes under the water slowly, making sure I don’t get overwhelmed. My brain conjures up images the beaches of 4, the purple-pink and orange shades that paint the sky. The smell of salt and the sound of the waves nothing like the rough current that has ravaged my memories.

I wash my hair and put on a fluffy white sweater that’s soft on my skin and brown pajama pants. On the ornate mirror I see a face stare back at me. Eyes heavy with dark circles, dry skin and curly stringy hair. I almost cry, this isn’t what I expected my life to be by 25.

The cold of the air-conditioned room outside seeps from the small space under the door - invading the damp, humid air of the bathroom.

Once all my night rituals are complete I dry my hair with a thick maroon towel.

Majority of the lights are off except for one; a bedside lamp near the right side of my bed. I’m not surprised when I see a body right under the covers of my bed, twisting to have their back to me. They look so small and tired which isn’t something I usually describe my companion to be.

As I climb into bed, I do a final sweep of the room, checking for things to secure before I fall asleep. When I was satisfied, I turned the opposite side and let the darkness finally take me – not even noticing an arm circle my waist and I am pulled softly to a hard chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I just feel like I'm pulling fancy words out of my ass. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> poem used is not mine


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Details on Thalia and Finnick's relationship. Mentions of sexual abuse and prostitution although it's briefly implied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I'm grateful for anyone who's reading this mess I had created. I'm planning to make this a trilogy, the second book will be about Mockingjay and the third will detail Thalia's life and her games along with how much different she was back then.

“ ** _We can never know the outcome of the love we choose to give. We just have to trust that it is always enough and remember that, no matter the outcome – your love is never wasted.”_**

* * *

I met Finnick Odair long before he was a Tribute in the games. My family were in the wealthier side of Four while he lived with his Grandma, selling fish by the docs. He was an annoying child, always craving attention and looking for ways to amuse himself. I hated him on the spot. He was three and I was four. My Pa owned a restaurant while Ma caught fish and distributed it to the sellers.

He was clingy and had enough mischief in him to last a lifetime but for whatever reason he liked me. The boy would follow me around, when I’d sell fish or play by the beach, he was there. My parents told me to be nice to him because his parents were swallowed by the tide during a fishing trip.

Throughout my early life, he was like a barnacle and I was a boat. He was always around me. I’d make it a point to run away whenever I knew his Grandma would make rounds to sell the fish from Ma’s boat. He’d always find me.

Finnick became such a permanent fixture in my life that he had crept under my selfish, juvenile skin and burrowed into my heart like a crab. He was a curious kid and loved adventure just like the rest of District 4. We had a lot of misadventures together, ones that guaranteed earfuls from our respective folks but we still did them for the sake of it.

I started to enjoy his company as we grew up around the salt air of our home District. We’d go build sandcastles by the beach, pretend to be pirates or hunt treasure at the sand bar. We were thick as thieves. I couldn’t imagine a life without him.

When my Pa died after drowning in a Typhoon, I cried all week. Ma wasn’t any better, she was in a weird trance. She rarely moved from the porch.

_“It’s alright.” Finnick patted my shoulder. I skipped school today, I didn’t have it in me to show my face after Pa’s funeral. “Please don’t cry.”_

_“Go away, Finnick.” I sniffle but he was determined, he kept trying to hug me as I continued to push him off. “Don’t be sad, please.” He begs._

_“I said go away!” I shove him off making the small boy tumble away, guilt immediately crept into me. **He started it** a voice in my head says **He was trying to comfort you, be grateful** another seems to answer **.**_

_Instead of going away like I expected, he bounces into a sitting position and just stares at me. I raise an eyebrow which he returns. We stay like that for a few seconds before I burst out in tears and tackle him in a hug. He doesn’t push me away._

I had to tie in the boat when they pulled in and we had to close down the restaurant because Ma was a horrible cook. My little brother, Thane was the only person she lived for at that point. He was a sickly child and was nearing his third birthday. He caught pneumonia a week after his birthday. Another two days, he died. I didn’t show up for school…again.

I hated the pain and I hated love.

I was only twelve then and I had a depressed mother to take care of. I had to handle the incoming ships to make money to support us since she was in no condition to head out to sea. Finnick and his Grandma helped us so much during this time. Grandma sent meals and made sure Finn would check on us each morning and before bedtime.

His obnoxious morning calls were what helped me get up in the morning albeit to just throw a dish rag at him, he never got tired of it though. He always gave me that toothy smile and beckon me over to the beach, a few minutes before sunrise to help me get the day started.

Before sunset, I still carried on my game of avoiding him to test whether he was adept at finding me as he was at four years old. He was always there for me and I with him. when I got reaped for my games he was still eleven years old and had no grasp on what it meant going to the Capitol. He was still a mindless career student of the Academy that believed their bullshit about honor and pride to the District.

He hadn’t experienced as much death as I did and I wanted to keep it that way.

He had the biggest smile on his face when I got up that stage and shook hands with a boy five years older than me, who I was expected to kill and vice-versa. It was that exact moment when I realized I loved him. It was one of the happiest and scariest days of my life.

I had given him a leverage over me just like Ma, Pa and Thane. I didn’t think twice when I kissed him on the forehead and said I’d miss him. Despite my initial anger at his naivety, I didn’t want our last memory of each other to be an unpleasant one.

Grandma gives me her pearl barrette as my token. I didn’t notice she clipped it on my hair until I was on the train.

_I stare at the painted lady with hair like green seaweed as she waits for me to come up. There was silence as I made my way to the front. I don’t look at the spot where the parents are, Ma killed herself after Thane died of Pneumonia._

_I hate love, It’s not something I want to give nor receive. Ma loved Thane too much that she decided to follow him to the depths of Triton’s Kingdom. Maybe it was a mercy too, She had gone insane when Pa died, now that Thane was gone at least she couldn’t witness her only daughter get chosen for imminent death._

_As I pass the aisle, I see Finnick smiling at me. He thinks I can win the games, he told me so a few days before. We were harvesting shells from the rocks to sell, I had lived with them after Ma’s passing._

_He thinks I’m invincible just because I can wield a spear. Despite what the rest of Panem thinks, Four is not entirely a District that support the games. There are some of us who detest it, fear it for the inhumane way it is. They just hide it well in order to steer clear of the President’s wrath._

_I get partnered with an older boy, Hozier Basse. He was in his last year of the Academy, already eighteen. We are told to shake hands and we do._

_Soon we are taken to separate rooms to say goodbye to family. Grandma steps in, she cries as she combs my hair back. Finnick is at the corner confused at why his Grandma seems sad when it was an honor to bring pride to our District through a bloody death match._

_I want to strangle him._

_She takes my face into her wrinkled hands, they are thickened by hardwork and labor but I lean into them. “You stay alive. Do you hear me Thalia? You will go to those games, find a weapon and get home” her voice shakes but not from old age._

_“You’ll win, Thal. I know you will.” Finnick says._

_Even if he seems naïve, I couldn’t find it in myself to reprimand him. He’s just a boy, a stupid boy who knows nothing of the reality of the Games. If this was my last moment with him, I don’t want it to be something bad._

_“I’ll miss you.” I simply say, hugging him to me. There is a clear height difference between us but I expect he’ll hit his growth spurt soon. Soon where I might be dead._

_For the first time, I kiss his forehead, watching as he looks surprised and opens his mouth as if he wanted to say something before the Peacekeepers usher them out._

_When I step into the train, Hozier compliments my pearl barrette. I reach up to my hair and find that Grandma had clipped a seven-pearled barrette to my windswept curls. I almost cry._

_Pearls are big things at Four. A pearl barrette is a gift given to a girl by their family once they reach eighteen, a sign that they were now women. A man proposes marriage by giving a pearl he had dived for himself to someone they loved. While a pearl hair-net for women during formal occasions signify marriage as the men have matching Conche shell necklaces made by the wives._

_Grandma gave me hers. My Ma owned one but I had buried it along with her._

_When we arrive at the Capitol, citizens scream and cheer as we pass. Hozier looks excited as I cower from the back. They pay me no mind. When we enter the remake center, they poke and prod me ‘till I’m red and raw. At night I can’t sleep. Richette, our escort reprimands how big my eyebags have become but my mentor Mags and an older man named Ferrer just smile at me._

_Mags is a nice woman, she rarely speaks but you could tell what she means by the look in her yes. Ferrer is on the older side, he’s already reached eighty but continues to mentor kids as best as he can._

_I practice with my spear and take time with the fish hooks and snares. My partner talks with the Career pack ensuring that we stay with them. It’s a success, even before the games start we have an alliance._

_For the parade, We are dressed in a sheer green fabric. My head dress is made up of white corals while Hozier reminds me of a very rich pirate. All the bangles on his arm jiggle as we rode the chariot to the President’s Mansion._

_It’s the first time I ever laid my eyes on my executioner. President Snow was a thin man, with white hair and a face that reminded me of a snake. I smile as my Stylist instructs but inside I want to throw my heavy headpiece at him._

_How dare he do this to us?_

_He speaks about the power of the Capitol and he welcomes our very short stay as we entertain them with the bloodbath that will ensue in the following days. I cry to Mags that night. How unfair was life, I had lost my family and now I’m about to lose my life._

_I’m going to die, I know it. I’m not as charismatic as Hozier nor as likable. Mags knows it, Ferrer knows it, Hell, even Richette. Even if I don’t die initially, the other Careers would kill me._

_Mags just hums a tune while she strokes my hair as I scream into her chest. I miss my Ma. I miss Grandma. I miss Finnick._

_I have to be brave, even when I die, I don’t want them to see how weak I am._

_We continue training, the game makers shake their head when they look at me for individual assessment. I had gotten a spear that I threw at three targets. The blades impale each dummies’ heart. When the scores were released, I had gotten a seven while Hozier got a nine._

_Maybe I had a chance. We are awoken early to be with our stylist to prepare for the games, which will begin promptly at eight in the morning. I feel sick to my stomach and heave out water into the sink, Mags is the only person who can calm me down. She rubs my back and hums the same tune from a few days ago._

_I’m dressed in a thick jacket and form fitting pants. Several shirts and a sweater was put on my body while boots were put on my feet. I don’t know what the theme for this year’s arena would be but I have a feeling it will be somewhere cold._

_Right before the elevator ascends Mags manages to find herself inside after my stylist left. She kisses my forehead and hugs me tight while I allow tears to escape my eyes. The gleam in her brown eyes tell me that she would do everything she can for me, that she will do her part as long as I do mine. I nod without a second thought. The pod closes and I’m led up to the Arena._

_There was a brief darkness before I find myself in a desolate wasteland. The place was dark. I spot a few mountains from a distance, the area surrounding us was the remains of what looked to be a large city. Rubble was everywhere, cars overturned, wind howling. Besides me were the tributes from Districts one and 8. One smirks at me while 8 looks at me with pity._

_In the middle of the city square lied the Cornucopia. Bags and crates of weapons are strewn haphazardly around it, the closer to the mouth, the more supplies you’ll get. I steel myself, no it’s a bloodbath. Mags and Ferrer both warned me to stay with the supplies outside. A full bag’s not worth anything when you’re dead._

**_“Ladies and gentlemen, let the 63 rd Annual Hunger Games, Begin!”_ **

**_Ten_ ** _I need to get a pack, it doesn’t matter which one._

 **_Nine_ ** _get a spear and a few knives._

 **_Eight_ ** _look for possible places to hide._

 **_Seven_ ** _search for water._

 **_Six_ ** _join my allies._

 **_Five_ ** _what’s the point of it when we kill each other in the end._

 **_Four_ ** _Do I want to risk it?_

 **_Three_ ** _I’m the weakest link, when everyone’s gone they’d kill me first._

 **_Two_ ** _I should just step off this platform and be done with it._

 **_One_ ** _the canon goes off._

_I run as fast as I can to the closest back pack and sling a spear behind me. The rain begins to pour as tributes around me fight to the death. Blood mixes with water, making a disgusting pink soup. A tribute tries to tackle me but I evade it, kicking him between his legs and punching him with my fists. I thank whatever Gods are out there for the Academy._

_I pick up the fallen bag and run towards a dark alley and scale a pole, hiding in a crevice of a window. From here, I could see the bodies falling left and right as the Career pack shows no mercy. Hozier runs a boy’s chest with a machete while Una, the District One tribute beheads a girl._

_At that moment, the reality hits me. I’m in the games. And I was going to die. I cry for the first time. Rain mixing in with my tears._

_Night happens soon. The rain never stops. I grow cold and hungry. Inside my pack was a bit of medicine, some knives, a tumbler of water and a bit of food._

_Canon after Canon is heard. I try to change spots every day. I haven’t encountered any tributes yet but I was stuck with an earthquake that swallowed a building whole and a tornado that was made out of poisonous gas._

_I had survived four days in the games when I meet the Career pack again. Hozier one of them, it seemed that they one of their group, making them only six. I almost run to him, after seeing a familiar face but then he raises his machete and runs towards me. I quickly realize my mistake, I pivot and run through a maze of Alleys. Even after four days it constantly rained. I check the dam on the other side of the city and know soon enough it will overflow._

_I cry and run at the same time, this is it. I’m going to die at the hands of my partner._

_A door opens and someone drags me inside. I attempt to scream but he holds a hand to my mouth. The wet steps of the Careers can be heard outside as I hold my breath. I hear them argue before their voices disappear. When they are gone, I jumped away from the arms holding me. I grab at my spear and raise it defensively. District 8 stares at me unimpressed. He had a sword strapped to his waist and his pack behind him. A blanket was laid at his far right._

_He had thick curly hair and brown eyes, his expression grave._

_“What are you doing?” I demand, thought my voice cracks._

_“I saved your life.” He states then begins packing up his gear. “Now that’s all done, feel free to leave. Remember, I’m not doing that again.”_

_As he rises to head out the door, I manage to ask. “Why?”_

_“I have a sister, you look the same age as her, 12 right?” I nod. “kids like you have no business being here. You should’ve died at the Cornucopia, it might’ve done you some good.” And with that he was gone._

_Later that night, a hovercraft flies a small container to my hiding place. Inside was three rolls, I almost cry. I seem to be doing that a lot._

_It smelled as delicious as it tasted. Rain showers were in the itinerary the next day, it wasn’t as thick and angry as the previous pours making it easier to see where I was going. When I turned a corner, I see brown cargo pants crawl behind a piece of rubble._

_I follow it, hoping I might make a kill just to satisfy the viewers. I sneak up on the person and jump in front of them, spear ready to pierce them._

_To my shock I see 8 bloodied and bruised, a big gash on his side made by a sharp machete. He stares at me with no emotion, waiting on my next move. He had a sister, during his interview he said he was the one who provided for his ailing Ma and younger sibling, besides he saved my life once._

_I keep my spear raised when a flash of lightning happens and we’re descended into heavy rain. I lower my weapon and drag him to a tinted shop. The bell making a tinkling sound when we enter. He was breathing deeply, trying to put pressure on his wound. I open my pack and he attempts to hit me._

_I gave him the look he gave me the first time we met, I yank his hand away and treat the wound with the safety kit I had received days before. I wipe some of my remaining ointment on him and bandage his side. All night we just stare at one another, waiting for what would happen next._

_In a turn of events, we form an alliance. We encountered three tributes, 10, 7 and 5. Given the nature of the games, we kill them. I had managed to skewer 5 and Kino, the Tribute from 8 took care of 10. District 7 had been a group effort, the man had serious skill with an axe._

_“How many are left?” I ask him one night as we took shelter inside an abandoned factory. We made a fire by the corner of the crate room. He was roasting the rats we found hiding in the factory machines._

_“two of 1, 4, you and me, the girl from 12 and two of 3.” He says as he sharpens his weapon. We don’t say it but we know we’d have to separate soon. It’s been two weeks and the games still went on. I feel that something big might happen soon, the Capitol only lives to please its citizens and boredom isn’t something they enjoy._

_We split the next day, during the middle of a pouring two of three’s tributes find me. I had never fought by myself before. Kino was always there when we took part in the fighting. My hand shakes but I stand my ground. The boy makes a run for me, he wobbles. Maybe it’s from exhaustion or hunger but his misfortune means my survival._

_He bumps into the stones behind me and I stab him from behind, he makes a wet choking sound as I twisted the blade. He splutters and coughs as the cannon goes off. I feel someone get close to me, the female tribute took the opportunity to slash at me while I was too busy murdering her partner._

_Her blade connects with my side, making a deep hole in my ribs. I push her away, my brown shirt was starting to stain. 3 stares at me bewildered, she must’ve expected that weak blow would kill me._

_I ready my spear, she lunges again. Up to this day, I could never specifically remember my killings, it was always an out of body experience. As if another person was doing it. All I know is, I had a bleeding graze on my cheek, bruised knees and elbows and holding my spear over the dead eyes of the Tribute. I was breathing hard when I realized she was dead. Blood red oozed on the flooding floor of the square._

_I looked at the Dam once again, it’s close to over-flowing. I bet maybe another day._

_I make a run for it but wince as the wound prickles and pins at my skin. I find shelter. The rain slams against the naked-thin roof of a small shed. I haven’t received a single sponsor in days, maybe they realized I was a lost cause._

_The lightning and thunder rumble loud. I cry into myself._

_I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die…Finnick…Grandma…please don’t hate me…I DON’T WANT TO DIE…I DON’T WANT TO DIE…_

_“I don’t want to die!” I scream at the top of my lungs. There were probably cameras here but I’m unhinged. I want them to see, I want the Capitol to see what their entertainment caused a young child. How heartless they are for even allowing these games to occur._

_I’m getting feverish from the weather and the wound. By some miracle it doesn’t kill me._

_I rock back and forth and cry until my throat is raw. Soon morning light breaks through the windows. Something that has never happened before in the almost three weeks in the arena._

_Something’s coming, I can feel it. I peek out the window and see the dry rubble with the morning sun. I make my way to the square where the cornucopia is at. The Careers are gone, I don’t know where. I don’t have much food left so I pick up all the food packets my little hands can carry._

_It was quiet, too quiet. Suddenly someone has me on a choke hold, the position in which one snap would kill me instantly. I bite hard into the arm, drawing blood._

_When they let me go, I faced the group and there they were Hozier and Ula, the last of them. Ula had a bloody nose, looking extremely pale while Hozier had a crazed look in his eyes. Perhaps he knows that this will soon end, he will kill me then Ula and then he can go home._

_I try to control the shaking of my knees when they both make a run for me at the same time. I evade and parry with my spear. He lunges and made a slash on my good arm, I almost drop my weapon._

_No, I’m getting out of this alive. I’m not dying in here. I’m going to live a long peaceful life._

_By a miracle, I stab at him and it hits the bull’s eye. Hozier’s eyes widen, I catch a glimpse of the smiling boy at the Academy. His father was part of my Ma’s crew. Before I even blinked, I twist the blade and he crumples on the ground._

_A canon goes off._

_There he was, lying on a pool of blood. His bright blue eyes devoid of life. Gone was the happy, good-natured boy I saw in the hallways of the Academy. In a flash, I see Finnick in his place instead. I gasp and step back. No, it can’t be. I rub my eyes and find that it was just an illusion._

_I’m going crazy._

_Sounds of grunts and blade against blade is heard not far behind me. Kino was backing Ula into a wall. The girl was bloodied as she tried to fight off the bigger boy, I almost vomit when I see that her left leg was no longer attached to her body, as she pathetically fights off Kino._

_When he goes to make the killing blow, she makes one last effort and stabs the soft of his stomach. I’m pretty sure she had hit a major organ._

_And then I’m back to when I was eleven, watching my father die right before my eyes. I let out a guttural roar, the wind blows and I find myself running through the rubble as torrents of rain fall against me. I pull him off her and I make a stab at anything I could find of Ula._

_I was in a trance, hitting every piece if her I could find. Making no exceptions to anything. I find myself breathing hard, with a rock I had somehow managed to get my hands on. I kept bashing her head in until she was unrecognizable._

_I only stop because I hear a crack and I look up to find the dam, the clear liquid just at the brink and I know this was the last of the trials. I hurry over to Kino as he let me tie a quick bandage on his wound. I cry while doing this. I check from time the status of the dam._

_It’s almost spilling over, I curse and tie the fabric as tightly as I can. This can’t end like this. Kino continues to stare blankly at me. Maybe he was in shock, with all the adrenaline coursing through me, I managed to haul him up just as the dam overflowed and a flood was headed towards us._

_I limped away knowing that if I turned back, all I’d see is a tidal of water. What shocks me is the fact that Kino starts crying. He clings to my little shoulder, trying to stay upright._

_Behind us, the sound of oncoming water scares us to push harder, trying to escape the dark blue trap. He breathes hard and soon he just stops._

_“What are you doing, Kino?” I screech. The water had already swallowed the square and was coming towards us. He stares at me._

_“You’re going to win.” That’s all he rasps. “You’re going to win and you’ll go to the Victory tour and bring my family back this.” He raises an old locket. It was faded and scratched._

_“No, no. we are getting out of this together.” I desperately try to push him forwards. The water is even closer now but he stays in place._

_“Promise me, you’ll stay alive.” He chokes. “And you’ll escort my body back home, to my family. They won’t hate you, I promise they know why this had to happen.”_

_I cry and continue to pull him. “Stop talking crazy, we need to run!”_

_“Four, Thalia!” It’s the first time he calls me by my name. it was always, Four._

_“In order to survive this, I need to swim…and I can’t”_

_I shake my head. “I’ll support you, I’M A STRONG SWIMMER!”_

_For the past weeks I had looked up to this boy, he protected me a lot of times and now when he needed me I couldn’t. I’m a failure._

_“I know you are.” He shushes me, brushing the hair that has stuck to my face. “But you can’t keep both of us up.”_

_“Stop it! I can, I darn well can! I’m the best swimmer in Four!”_

_“Shhh…” he calms me. “Even if we survive. It’s only us left. And I can’t – “_

_Then it struck me, one of us has to die in this flood or else, we’d have to fight each other. I can’t fight him and he knows that he can’t fight me either._

_“See? It’s better this way.” He unhooks the necklace and ties it on my neck. I realized now how much bigger he actually is compared to me. And somehow I had managed to haul him up a few meters._

_“You take care of yourself, when a chance comes take it!” I’m confused by his statement. What chance?_

_I make a move to ask but in a morbid comical way, the water had crept up and slapped us with its strength. I grasp at his hand desperately but he pushes me away. We are submerged in gallons of water. My hands grasping at him but he keeps pulling away_

_On last time, he looks at me and give me the warmest smile I had ever seen in my life. Then he slowly sinks to the bottom of the arena. A serene expression on his face. My lungs burn, calling to air. Against my better judgement I kick up my legs and break open to the surface._

_“Kino! Kino! Kino!” I call out hysterically. I kick at the water. I begin submerging myself again, maybe to look for Kino, maybe to kill myself. I’ll decide soon._

_“Kino! Kino! Kino!” my cries are deperate. It’s a pathetic thing to witness. The water started receding, as I follow the current. Screeching a dead man’s name like a chant._

_I take refuge when I grabbed into a large piece of rubble and climb atop it. My body was humming, my wounds were bleeding and all I wanted was to die. There’s a ringing in my ear when Seneca, the head game-maker comes into the speakers._

**_“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 63 rd Annual Hunger Games. The youngest victor in History, Thalia Ulysses. The Pride of District four!”_ **

I can’t remember much of what happens next, all I know is I was thrown a piece of rope. I had taken it and they pulled me up. Capitol doctors inspect me as I cry and thrash against them. They get tired of it and stick some morphling at my neck.

The next time I wake up, I’m restrained with Mags and Ferrer looking down at me. I begin to cry again. The emotions I had felt for almost a month dousing me like a pail of cold water. She comforts me, rubbing circles on my back. Ferrer gives me a sad smile as he leans on his dark cane.

“I wish I died.” I whisper into my mentor’s chest. Mags just hums. Once I’m better, the Capitol prances me around like a prized mule. I beg them to start he victory tour at once, I wanted to be able to escort my fallen friend’s corpse back home just like he had told me.

It took a while but they let me. We begin at 8, at my insistence. I’m not sure if they did it for the little girl who just survived a death match or if it was because the citizens love the drama of letting me face my fallen ally’s family. After 8, we round back to twelve and move up. District 4 would be the last stop.

They force me into fluffly clothes that swallow me whole and paint my face in strong-smelling make-up. Richette is ecstatic of having another victor. They parade me as an angelic child, an angel of death as if it was a good thing. I hate it but it’s what kept me alive.

The tour starts without a hitch. I read the cue cards my escort makes me and cry at the face of the man who I saw as a brother being projected. Under it was Kino’s family. His mother is distraught and crying, the young girl, not much older than I am clings to her. I hold back tears as I read the cue cards they give me, it felt so wrong, so inadequate, the man who saved my life deserves more than just empty words from the girl he just died for to talk about the generosity of the Capitol. The Capitol that had wanted him killed.

When it is all over, they pull me into the Justice building for a meal.

Richette happily blabs away when Mags pulls me aside and inclines her head to the glass window. Kino’s younger sister waits with a frown. I pull away while Mags and Ferrer cover for me.

The door opens slowly and I round the building to see her. She looks exactly like her brother, with thick curly hair and calculating eyes. We don’t say anything to each other, she lets out her hand.

I look at it then reached behind me to unclasp her brother’s token. I hand it to her wordlessly.

“I hope you lose something you love like we did.”

And then she was gone. I’m flabbergasted but deep inside I know she was right. _Me too._

The tour continues, District one had a vendetta against me, I could tell. After what I did to their tribute, it’s not a surprise. Time whips pass and I find myself home, finally at District 4.

When I exit the train, all the townsfolk welcome me back. They call me a legend but all I am is a child, a _murderer._ The mayor makes a speech about the glory I had given them and how happy they were to welcome another victor home. The guilt sickens me, how could they forget that two tributes left and only one returned? It’s easy to forget a loser but why could they not even make him a shroud for his family?

When the day ends, I run to Finnick’s house. He’s out by the porch weaving fishhooks, Grandma was probably cooking inside with the smoke coming out of the Chimney. A sense of elation comes over me. I was home.

“Finnick!” I whisper. He looks up, eyes wide and drops his fishhooks. There was a mix of shock and uncertainty in his stance but I ignore it and run to him, launching myself at such speed that it made us tumble backwards.

“I MISSED YOU!” I yell. The neighbors were probably asleep by then but I didn’t care. When I’m offered a house in Victor’s village, I readily accept and invite the Odairs to live with me. They pack up and we join the village, living happily for a few years. I still continue school and train Finnick by the beach, his weapon of choice now is a Trident, there’s no denying he’s good but I worry it got in over his head.

Annie Cresta hangs out with us as well. She’s a year younger than Finn and two from me but she’s a sweet girl. Her parents are the worst though, they ask too much of her and it exhausts her to no end.

I can tell she likes Finnick, the little stolen glances she gives him and the shy smiles tells more than a Capitol Magazine. I’m happy for them but there is this nagging behind my head that snarls when she gets too close. I ignore it of course. I ignore a lot of things these days.

When the 65th Games arrive, I’m fifteen and have stepped up in the place of Ferrer who died last spring. I find it funny how Victors are promised a peaceful, happy life but here I am constantly surrounded by death.

My first year mentoring and I hate it already. The male tribute was supposed to be Ruthbert Francey but stupid, idiotic, _arrogant Finnick volunteers._ I stare wide-eyed as he makes his way to the top, smiling with his boyish good-looks he has grown into. I didn’t listen to who the female victor was. As soon as he enters the train, I march up to him and punch him square in the jaw.

“You idiot!” I say, Richette is shocked, I drag him to the back of the room. He rubs at his jaw and glares at me.

“What was that for?”

“You know what it was for!”

“No, I don’t, care to explain it to me?” he shouts, his juvenile anger getting the best of him.

“You were safe!” I heave. “you were safe Finnick, for at least this year and now you make yourself in front of the line of fire.”

“I can handle the games!” he says indignantly, his sea-green eyes burning with rage.

“No!” I interrupt. “no one can handle the games, not me, not the other victors, and certainly not you!”

His eyes widen and he looks down, completely hurt “I just want to be like you.” He mumbles voice small.

I don’t have anything more to say and just hug him close to me. When we arrive at the Capitol, they go crazy for him. Everyone is entranced by the handsome, brave boy that had volunteered at fourteen.

I give him all the advice I can and soon I send him off to be killed just like I was two years ago. Mags and I prepare him the best we could, everything is up to him now. He makes it past the initial blood bath. High on a tree he holds the Pearl Barrette I had given to him as my token back in my own games. For good luck.

Finnick stayed with the Career pack before he breaks away on the third day. I worry about him, Mags and I exchange keeping watch of him. The sponsors scramble among themselves to give donations, by a couple days, we had gotten enough money to send him a Trident.

I let out a sigh of relief when he catches it from the hovercraft and tests it out, tentatively assuming a fighting stance. _He’ll make it, he has a Trident now._

A week later he had won, he made a net with vines Mags had taught him and fought with the techniques from the beach trainings. Finnick captured the tributes with the net and killed them with the Trident. When the Careers find out he was the one to beat, he was already on to them.

When we arrive at the infirmary, he was there. Strapped to a bed like I was. Mags put an arm around my shoulder.

_Was this how it felt? Having your victor survive but not sure if they are still the same people from before._

I wait for him to wake up even when Mags leaves. It doesn’t take long, he had a lot of sponsors so he didn’t have to go hungry or in pain long. When he opens his eyes, he sees me right away. He lunges at me.

“Finn, Calm down. It’s me, It’s me.” He continues thrashing, the doctors were on their way detecting the spike of his heart. I hugged him close, brushing his hair back like I always did when we were kids. He calms down after a while.

The doctors enter and find him in a calm state, completely different from the alarm they received.

We don’t talk as he just holds my hand. The Capitol loves him, he’s their golden boy but there is an inkling feeling in me that says they _love_ him a bit too much.

When we return home, Finnick has his own place but still continues to live in mine. The next year, Grandma dies, leaving us alone in a great big house with only the two of us. We mourn in silence, taking turns in asking each other to take care of themselves when we go out.

The nights are the worst, both of us always wake up screaming, with cold sweat sticking to our skin. Every memory of each day in the arena is re-lived. We try to cope but it gets too much, at nights when we can’t seem to find relief in our dreams, we sit outside just counting the stars hoping Grandma is one of them.

I look at Finnick, the boy I grew up with, completely different from the one who left District Four a few months ago. That’s when I realized I loved him, _really loved him_. It made me angry, love is something unsure and is not always returned. Perhaps I have become selfish since my games, I always want assurance of everything. After spending a whole month not being sure of what may happen in the future, clarity is what I crave.

_Stop it, right now he needs you. Don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgement._

Sixteen is when Finnick really sees the Capitol for what it is, _a rotting heart that contaminates the rest of Panem._

He becomes a mentor to replace Mags, the woman deserved some peace after near sixty years of doing her job. Our tributes had died on the fourth day, so now we were heading home. I made sure to arrange everything we needed for the journey back. And after a final photoshoot we were cleared for travel.

“Finn, are your bags ready?” I call into our floor. Nobody answers. “Finn? C’mon, we need to leave.”

I find him in the living room, stiff backed, hands on his thighs. He has an odd look in his sea-green hues.

“Finn?” I step forward, he doesn’t even flinch when I sit on the plush settee beside him. When I move to put a hand on his shoulder, Finnick jumps back.

“I had to do it” he deadpans. I furrow my eyebrows. “Do what Finnick?” I ask. “Do what Finnick Odair? Tell me?”

Each second only grows my anxiety, he finally looks at me. “Or he’ll kill you, you and Mags.”

I drop my remote. _No, no, this couldn’t be happening. He’s barely sixteen_ I have heard about President Snow’s monstrosity before but I never…Finnick…not Finn…not my little Finn.

“No, I’ll talk to him, Finnick, he can’t do this!” I state. I go to pick up my bag but he pulls me back.

“He said not to tell anyone, not even you. Don’t do this Thal, it’s not worth it!”

He begs desperately. I see that little boy who swam in the tide pools, eyes scared and looking for comfort. There was nothing I could do, once again. I am a failure.

“I…I Finn…Do you want me to leave.”

He doesn’t say anything, just pulled his knees on his chest and rocked back and forth. We stare into the fireplace, a little while later, I feel him rest his head on my lap. I tentatively raise my hand and comb through his locks like I did when we were children. He turns and burrows himself into my stomach and cries.

* * *

_We’re all broken kids looking for a way out._


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thank you to anyone who's reading this fanfiction. It amazes me that people are actually willing to give this a chance. As always The Hunger Games does not belong to me but instead to Suzanne Collins. Comments/Constructive Criticisms are very much encouraged and welcomed.

**There is some good in this world and it is worth fighting for.**

**-J.R.R. TOLKIEN, THE TWO TOWERS**

* * *

Morning came earlier than expected. I roll over the bed and find Finnick in his nightclothes, a white shirt and brown joggers. He faced away from me, his sandy blonde hair a mess as I hear his soft snores. These are the moments I cherish, ones that the Capitol can never take from us. I see the light peak through the blinds and realize that we had our appointment with Haymitch in a few hours.

We didn’t have to worry of anyone coming in because the games were over, Richette and the Stylists were in their respective homes and we had the floor to ourselves. I slowly get out of bed and head to the windows to open the blinds.

I hear the man hiss when the light enters the room. “A normal person wouldn’t open the blinds until at least nine-thirty.”

“Hmm…” I don’t mind the glare he sent my way as I sat myself on the white plush chair of my vanity. I could see him at the corner of the circular mirror trying to get his bearings.

He still had sleep in his eye while he tried to cover his body by engulfing himself with the soft grey duvet. Finnick was never a morning person preferring the night-owl lifestyle. I see the lump wiggle until he throws off the blanket and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, you win.” He huffs and gets up, stretching his tall, lithe form and headed out the door. His feet dragging behind him.

I try to comb the tangled curls. The locks of hair coming together in tufts in the brush making it had to manage. The stylist had used a white cream for this but I rarely bring any of the Capitol things they give me. I’d rather have Four untouched by the filth of the city.

I pull my hair to the front and try to straighten out the knots, my hand tiring from the constant brushing. When it was smooth, I let out a sigh. I smell bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen, at that moment my stomach makes an angry growl.

I slip on plain slippers and head out to feed my distressed stomach. Finnick stands on the stove, hunching over the frying pan. He had his back to me as I make myself comfortable on the island.

“I have a feeling you didn’t wake me up this early just to make breakfast”

I reach over the counter to grab an orange. When I press my thumb to the soft center, a squirt of zest exits. Spreading a fresh tangy scent all over the room.

“As much as I enjoy the moderately passable breakfast you make.” He turns to me, just to roll his eyes. “We have a meeting with Haymitch before we leave.”

I pick out a piece of orange and pop in my mouth. The taste awakening me instantly.

“Haymitch? Why? the man’s barely sober to talk to anyone.” Finnick shuts the stove and brings over the large pan to us. I grab some utensils from the tray beside me, handing him a pair.

“He was sober enough to talk to me last night.”

“Really? Considering it was a party for his victors, I expected him drunk off his ass.” He stabs a piece of bacon. “Y’know like he always is.”

“I guess but last night he wasn’t.” taking a bite out of the omelet. “Like he managed to partially sneak up on me, so I’m thinking he isn’t that far gone.”

He was still unconvinced, lips set in a straight line. He plays with his side of the pan, making idle circles. The way his hair shines under the fluorescent and the tan of his skin makes him look more appealing, natural to look at rather than the rest of the artificial sets found in the Capitol. He was something new and wonderful, _and they wanted it._

The thought of it almost makes me spit out my breakfast. “What time?” he suddenly asks. “What time do we have to leave?”

“Around 9:30, we meet at the rooftop after breakfast.” I look at the clock and see that we had only half an hour before we head up.”

We make small talk as we finish our breakfast. There is no mention of what has happened last night, as if it never happened. That’s what we do, we try to take things head on and when were done we don’t turn back, it’s like a long-standing rule for us. It hurts to dwell on something that has already happened. We cry and hurt but when it’s done we move on…as much as we can.

Right before the end of breakfast, he steals the last bacon. We engage in a battle for the last piece of meat which he wins. I roll my eyes and grab the pan to wash while he heads to the room for a shower. Before he leaves he sets the leftover glasses in front of me, I feel his chest as he innocently passes by the large walkway slyly touching the curve of my waist.

_There are lines we don’t cross_

I breathed out a sigh of relief when he is gone. Even if we wanted to, our lives our not up to us. There is only one puppet master who controls all the strings and he plays a sinister game for all to watch.

I look out the large windows, I see rain clouds in the distance and feel a shiver run up my spine. I shake it off and try to focus my eyes on scrubbing the rim if the cup. My hands shaking at the sound of the running water.

There’s nothing right now that can hurt me.

Finnick brings our luggage to the front desk as I change into a yellow – polka dot sundress, contradicting the dreary weather. My hair is tied in a bun, the pearl barrette glinting under the light.

A perfect innocent angel. Just what they want.

The elevator trip to the rooftop is fast, no new passengers enter from the floor. The music making me anxious. The polluted air greeted me when I exit the lift, I see Haymitch’s paunchy form talking to a familiar man. He wore a grey suit as he talks conspiratorially to the District 12 mentor.

Plutarch Heavensbee was a game-maker and a man of the Capitol. It didn’t make sense why he was here, with a mentor who I’m sure he had never talked to before. At least that I’m aware of.

Upon hearing the door open, Plutarch looks over his shoulder and nods when he sees me.

“Well.” Haymitch starts, eyes bleary from his hangover. “Don’t you look nice.”

“Yeah, yeah, now what’s the important business you need to discuss.”

“Miss Ulysses.” Plutarch greets. I nod, I don’t trust him. “We’ll need to wait for your friend before we discuss anything.”

I nod, my eyes turn to the morning view of the Capitol. The modern-oddly sized buildings operating like it would on a regular day, as if a bloodbath hadn’t just happened a few days ago.

I still the nagging voice in my head.

_People will do anything to survive._

I smell smoke from the far side of the building. A fire in the other side of the city was swallowing a building whole. I quirk an eyebrow as I see a red truck rush past the city streets. Law-abiding citizens immediately jump away. _How nice of them, if only they had that kind of consideration for the lives of people outside their little bubble._

“Miss Ulysses, Thalia may I call you that?” The game-makers voice startles me.

“You may…” I quirk an eyebrow “Call me Miss Ulysses.”

Haymitch coughs away a snort. Plutarch frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“Miss Ulysses, from what I hear you are one of the people who have been directly affected by Snow’s tyranny.”

“Yes.” I drawl. “As all of Panem, Mr. Heavensbee”

“But you have been particularly inconvenienced, you and your, co-mentor Finnick Odair and the loss of the only parental figure you have, Mrs. Farah Odair?”

My eyes turn into slits, hands grip the cement stopper. I don’t respond when I hear the elevator travel down.

“I hear that Snow is arranging another deal with you again.” He continues, I crane my head and glare at him. “This time he plans to use Annie, Preston? Creston?”

“Cresta.” I say hardly.

“Yes her, word got out that you have been friendly with the Tribute – “

“She’s a friend and a Victor of – “

“Well, being named the Maid of Honor for her oncoming wedding is not really subtle on how close you two are.”

“Wha –“

“Ah, Finnick! Nice of you to join us.” Haymitch calls in fake enthusiasm. His hand waving the man over. Finnick joins my side, I feel my body relax.

“Plutarch, Haymitch.” Giving them his Capitol approved smile. “This is a surprise.”

The two older men greet him back and leads us behind a Supply room to avoid any prying eyes. We were in the highest part of the building, there’s a low someone would catch us but one can never be too safe.

“Let us begin.” There is a brief silence before the game-maker continues. “There have been some riots happening in the Districts since the games. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark’s final act is seen as a defiance to the President. Since the parade, District 8 has been put into Martial Law.”

I looked between the two, scanning their expressions. I have a feeling this conversation is going to tread some dangerous waters. I examine the area around us.

“Capitol is silencing all the riots as discreetly as they can in order to not rattle the citizens.”

“People are calling for change. A rebellion is brewing” Finnick quips “Wanda, told me.”

A flash of a tulle tornado and green hair flashes behind my eyes. I frown.

“Precisely.”

“And what do you expect to gain talking with us?”

“You are trained fighters, along with the rest of your District.” Haymitch combs his greasy hair back “District Four were the first and last of the Districts to join and fall with the rebellion during the Dark Days.”

“Yes, well History glosses over that much.” I cross my arms over my chest, still wary of the two. Finnick on the other hand looks intrigued.

“The rebellion is hoping that same kind of enthusiasm. There’s still the underground bunker in the District?”

“Under the Drunk Cod.” The wind started picking up. Stray baby hairs fly in the breeze. “Nobody uses it anymore. It still has weapons from the Dark days. Military grade ones, old but still usable.”

“The two of you have influence, you are seen as legends in your District. People listen to you, and I have a feeling, not all residents of Four are too happy about how the Capitol has been treating your home.”

For the past few years, Four has been struggling with the Capitol’s demand with the seafood supply. Those who were living off daily income have been starving due to the seafood demand getting higher each year. Taxes are paid just to own a boat, every fisherman has to give seventy-percent of their catch to the exports. The beach has been commandeered by Peacekeepers, only being available to the public between 8 a.m. to 7 p.m.

They were slowly taking what was ours.

“We all have motivations to take down the oppressive Government. Both of you have reasons to hate the Capitol. So what we’re proposing is for the both of you to watch over the rebellion operations in your home. Talk it out with the elders there. For the first time, in a long time there’s hope. Everybody feels it.”

I think about all the years the Capitol has bullied, murdered and taken away all the things I have held dear, my home, my childhood, _people I cared about_.

This was a chance to make it all better.

“If we were, hypothetically to join the “Rebellion” who exactly runs the entire operation?” Finnick asks.

“District 13”

My mouth hangs open.

“Wha…what are you talking about 13 was bombed, completely obliterated. There’s nothing left alive there.” He splutters.

“That’s what they want you to think.”

Plutarch then explains the history of 13 and the Capitol, involving a cooked-up nuclear attack and the survival of the said District underground. Finnick is curious, asks all the questions while I attempt to wrap my brain around the new information. There are so many lies involving all that the general public knows about the Dark Days.

My head hurts. There is so much to digest. All these years 13 was just there, rebuilding itself while Panem continued to crash and burn.

The sound of the air and the rumble of cars are an adequate background music to the entire conversation. Chaos is bound to happen, Chaos will happen but it’s about time we take the chance.

“I’ll do it.” I state.

“Tha – “

“Don’t start with me, Odair. You want to end this as much as I do. If you don’t have the balls to stand up to Snow then you can go back to Victor’s Village while we fight the real fight.”

Haymitch is amused as he watches Finnick’s mouth opens and closes. “Think about what your choosing Thalia.”

For the first time in a long time, I turn to him coldly. “I have and this is my decision. We have it, Finn. We can finally breakaway from him.”

He stays silent before he looks between me and the men, gouging out my thoughts. “This is the only chance we got, isn’t it?”

We iron out the plan and leave. There’s a new spring in my step as we make our way to the train station headed for home. The trip is relatively short, only taking a day than the usual day and a half. I sit by the side of the train and look as the scenery passes us by.

The artificial city miles behind us and I heave out a sigh. I’m going back home.

We make it to Victor’s village, taking slow steps towards the large brick home provided to us. The large townhouse boasted a white front door, a green kept lawn, a large black-roof and vines sticking to its red brick visage. There were four glass windows, peeping by its side were black drapes and shutters at its exterior.

My carry on felt lighter now than it was a few days ago. I could smell the roses from Mags front garden beside us. This was home, no one can hurt me here.

Our neighbors, the past victors, were good people. They were nice but they preferred their own company. I can't blame them, a lot of things needed to be processed alone.

“So?” I hear Finnick ask beside me. He stared at the house, with an unreadable expression on his face. “What do we tell the others?”

“I don’t know.”

We go through the people who might be interested in the plan and were capable of handling what it would entail. There were three that we could think of but most notably, Risha Collier.

Risha was enthusiastic compared to the other two. I couldn’t blame them, there were a lot of things to be considered, their family for one. We met with the Mayor who at first rejected our plan until the council voted on it 8-3. A rigorous schedule was made, all able and willing residents were to gather in the bunker at a specific time frame and date to avoid any suspicion by the patrolling peacekeepers. Days were alternated on when the training sessions would meet. Everyone’s too busy training that the seafood export has been minimal. The Academy was very helpful as well, letting the instructors teach and refresh the adults.

The plan was to start the uprising a few days after the beginning of the Quarter Quell, how? We didn’t know. We just had to trust the Game-maker and who the leader of 13 was.

When I wasn’t out training, I would help Annie plan her wedding. It was a delightful distraction to the reality of preparing for a rebellion.

I walk out of Victor’s Village an hour before sunset. The late afternoon light giving an ambiance of calm especially now during the trying times. I pass by the fish market, the smell of salt and fish permeating through the air. One of the children wave at me, her toothy smile charming. I recognize her as the daughter of one of my Ma’s old crewmates.

“Thalia!” she calls happily. Her mother nowhere to be seen. She skips out of her stand and grabs my hand. “I thought you’d never get out of victor’s village!”

I hold her hand tightly. “Good afternoon, Reed.” The child beams at me. Her bright yellow dress matching the golden ambiance of our surroundings.

“Are you going to the beach?”

I smile and lead us towards the palm trees where a shallow drop of sand can be seen, we trek the crude man-made steps. Reed holding my hand tightly as I guide her down. She lets out a happy squeal when we take in the view. White sand glittered with seashells, corals and smooth rocks, on the far side of the port was a group of large broken down rocks, strewn randomly around the area were green palm trees green and healthy with life. The most beautiful part would be miles of sea-green water with its soft waves, beckoning us closer. _Nothing can hurt me._

“I’m waiting for Dad.” She tells me. Reed points to a faraway speck of a boat. She pulls me into the boardwalk and sits on the edge. I join her, leaning down and raising my knees; resting my hands on them. There was a time when I couldn’t even go near water, it’s still hard but I cope.

“How is your father?” I ask.

“He’s fine, he caught a bug though.” Reed pouts. “Mom wanted him to rest for a while but staying at home doesn’t pay the taxes, do it?”

  
I say nothing. I feel sorry for this girl, so young yet already knowing the struggles of life. Though 4 is considered one of the wealthier Districts that doesn’t mean all of us are well-off. There are plenty who live by hand to mouth, the Capitol just keeps that under wraps to make the rest of the Districts think loyalty to them will result in a prosperous life.

“Oh, you should appreciate your dad then.” I tell her. “He sacrifices a lot for you.”

“Yeah, yeah but he still won’t let me come fishing with him!” Reed says indignantly. “Says I’m too little to help with the heavy-lifting and all.”

“Being on a boat is hard work Reed. You need to grow bigger before you can do that.

She doesn’t say anything, just leaning on my side as if I were a wall. We stay silent, listening to the waves as they crash against the rock. It takes me back to my childhood, my memories echo in childish laughter, running after a head of sandy blond hair as we race across the water.

“What is it like, Thalia?”

I turn to her, eyebrows raising in question. “What is it like not having to worry about money?”

Her question is so innocent but it makes me almost cry. _It’s not all that it’s caught up to be_ I wanted to say. I lost so much to get it, now I don’t even want it. If I didn’t have all the money and luxury that I have now, I can confidently tell you that I won’t miss a cent of it.

“It’s comforting, I guess.” That’s all I say. She’s not satisfied by this. “That’s all? You get to buy all the food you want, you don’t have to barter with Mrs. Hudson when buying clothes and all you say is that it’s comforting?”

She seems exasperated with my answer. I feel my temper spike. She stares at me with those green shades that our District is known for. She can never understand until she goes into the same situation I had gone through to get this kind of money.

“I paid a hefty price to get it, Reed.” I say slowly. “Sometimes I wish I never did.”

The boat was closer now, Reed starts waving happily. I see a man in brown work clothes return the greeting from the hull. It’s still a good distance away giving us more time to talk. Reed sees my hidden anger, she shuffles her hands, looking down.

“I’m sorry…” Reed apologizes. She bites her lip “It’s just…you have so much money and everything” she makes spreads her arms out in exaggeration. “I just can’t understand why you’re always so sad.”

I reach out to ruffle her hair. “Having everything doesn’t guarantee happiness.”

Reed waves my hand away from her chestnut hair. “Hey, Mom doesn’t like it when my hair is all messy.

She immediately combs it back in her own neat way but little strands still escape the black comb-pin behind her head. It makes me smile. I met Reed right after she was born, I helped her Mom, Nerissa to deliver her six years ago. The healer was not home and her husband, Talbot was out at sea. I was visiting her house to help her with work, the Randalls were old family friends so Talbot asked me to watch over her while he was gone.

The rain was pouring as I encouraged her to push, the thunder and lightning drowning her screams. Despite my own personal fears of the rain, I continued to push it at the back of my head. A few hours later, Little Reed Thalia Talbot was born

“There’s your father.” I point to the grey fishing boat proudly sporting the name “Lovely Reed” in red cursive. The child gets up and runs to the shore while I follow after. The crewmember tosses a rope for us to pull. People on the beach start to converge to help pull the “Lovely Reed” back to shore.

Reed, even with all her little strength can’t contribute much to the effort but she still tries. I stand behind her, picking up the thick rope and pull. Soon we get the boat half out of the water, the man behind me tries to make small talk but I just huff out responses, too busy with actually helping.

When it is fully out, the people line up in front of the Styrofoam box that contained the fresh catch. Each person receives two of pieces of fish. Talbot personally hands out the fish while thanking the person for their help.

I watch by the side as someone stands next to me. “Thalia?”

I turn to Wilbur Storm, he looked handsome despite the dark bags under his eyes, in his hands was a wrapped box with a thin rope knotted to a dainty ribbon. He smiles shyly at me, a blush rising from his cheeks.

“I wanted to give you this, to thank you for the meal the other day.” He scratches the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly. “Uhmmm… here you go.” He all but shoves it to my arms and runs away like a little schoolboy.

I tilt my head to the side, I remember treating him to some food when I saw him stare longingly at a stand. I heard he was let go because his employer couldn’t pay the appropriate salary anymore.

He was always such an awkward boy, even back then when we were classmates in the Academy. Wilbur was always too squeamish to work in the market so he made a living by being hired help in the nicer part of town. They always told me he liked me but was too shy to make a move.

The past couple of months were different, when we saw each other under the Drunk Cod he’d make an effort to speak with me. He was okay with a spear but he could definitely improve.

“Thalia!” Talbot calls me, I move towards them with the box.

“What’s that your holding?” He carries Reed in his arms while his daughter hugs his neck. She hangs off him like seaweed.

“Wilbur gave it to me,” I’m not amused by the sly smile that graces his face. “Wilbur, huh? The boy who’s quite taken with you?”’

“Cut it out, Talbot. He’s just a friend.” I say, pocketing the box in my black beach shorts.

“Really? The way he looks at you says otherwise.” He reaches into the Styrofoam with one hand, he draws out two fishes. I shake my hand. “You don’t have to – “

“You deserve it, come now, Thalia, indulge an old friend.” For me, he reaches into the side and pulls out brown wrapping paper. I take it gingerly. The man gives me a toothy smile like his daughter.

“So, what will you say.” He asks.

“Huh?”’

“The pearl.” He nods to the box in my pocket. I purse my lips.

“It’s not – “

“Please, the man’s over the moon for you.” He explains. Reed is probably listening but she doesn’t add her own commentary. “Maybe, it’s not a bad thing. You’re of age now, Thalia. It’s time to set some roots.” He kisses his daughter. “Move on with life. Or do you already have plans with Finnick?”

Heat runs from the back of my neck to the apples of my cheeks. I’ve never really thought about that yet. The way we’re acting feels like we already are. I clear my throat.

“There’s so much baggage, Talbot. I don’t want anyone to deal with that.”

He nods but there’s an anxious look to him. I don’t want to explain, I walk alongside them when I see peacekeepers enter the beach.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The announcement of the Quell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, if you're still here, hi? how's it going? I hope your healthy and happy! This is a fanfiction for the Hunger Games and anything written here that isn't my plot or Thalia and other oc's don't belong to me but to Suzanne Collins. I won't be updating in the next 2 weeks or so since it's exam season, if you wanna know. I'll also be going back and edit the previous chapters cuz I'm not gonna lie they suck :< and this bech just got industrious enough to actually do a decent job in proof-reading/editing. I'm pretty proud of this one though, it's not like I only spent five hours trying to fix it *wink-wonk* 
> 
> as always comments and kudos are very much appreciated! stay safe.

**“If you know someone’s fear, you know them.”**

**-Victoria Aveyard, Red Queen**

* * *

There was a new sense of smugness to the peacekeepers when they stopped in front of us, their posture straight, chest puffed out as they held their weapons in front of them not menacingly but enough to get us to see they were not above using force to get whatever they wanted.

“Thalia Ulysses, the President wants to speak with you.” Said the Peacekeeper, a woman.

Talbot bristled beside me, covering up as much as he can of his daughter with his large palm. Reed hiding her face on his neck.

_President Snow? Here?_

_Did_ _he know?_

shit, shit, shit. This should not be happening.

I could almost see the cocky smile on their faces behind the mask as they watched me squirm. Ever since I could remember, the soldiers deployed at 4 were always the more ruthless ones, ones that enjoyed hurting and causing panic in our District. These two weren’t an exception.

Another downside at being “loved” by the Capitol, only the best of the best Peacekeepers get stationed here.

“Of course.” I turned to the duo beside me. “Will you be alright?”

I could feel one of them eye the wrapped package in my hand but before they could say anything I loudly declare,

“I appreciate your effort Talbot. Thank you for taking care of my mother’s boat.” With that I made a show of presenting the package to him.

We were supposed to give most of the catch to the exports, if they found out that he was giving away fish, things could get ugly. The man looked at me oddly then nodded, making quick steps away from us.

As soon as he was gone, I moved my attention back to the Peacekeepers waiting impatiently.

“So, to the Justice Building then?”

A scoff was heard from the other peacekeeper. “The president is at Victor’s Village. We are ordered to escort you there”

Before I can react, my arms are grabbed roughly. The thick gloves holding me in a vice-like grip. I try to struggle against them but they tighten their hold. As we passed the market place, onlookers who were packing their stalls for the day were all staring after us. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, as they pull me like a prisoner to the paved path to Victor’s Village.

When we crossed the steel gate, fear spiraled in my belly, expanding to my lungs, going up to my diaphragm, filling my throat like a thick ooze trying to choke me. Anything Capitol related wasn’t good, and anything that Snow sees to personally, well…That’s a tragedy.

We passed Annie’s house first, then Mags until we come upon my stop. A sleek black car was parked right outside the quaint little gate, the appearance of the president’s signature black car felt so out of place that a surprise shot of anger bloomed with the thick fear. A possessive feeling of protecting my home, what I had built for so long, from being decimated by the man who destroys everything he touches.

_How dare he come here? to my home. The only place I made sure had no semblance of the city that shattered my life._

“The president is waiting at the study.” Said the man in a bespoke suit, looking me up and down like I was vermin under his polished, leather shoes. “make it quick the president doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

A nerve ticked on the side of my eyebrow as I pass him, making deliberate slow steps towards the stairs just to spite him.

There had been only one instance when Snow made a trip to meet me, it was back when I was sixteen, when he offered me a job to be a “special” government official that had the task of providing “company and comfort” as he put it, to fat Capitol rats who he needed as allies or to thicken his wallet.

Bullshit, no amount of flowery words can make prostitution sound appealing.

My pride and dignity are the only things I had left.

It was the most demeaning thing I had ever experienced, being told to be nothing more than a warm body to be sold as a tool for his own selfish gain. I still remember his shocked look when I said no, the manufactured smile on his heavily enhanced face turning into a harsh snarl within seconds.

I shook my head, stopping at the heavy black door. The space behind it was alarmingly quiet, as I twisted the knob to open the door, it made the most god-awful creaking sound that I winced.

President Snow was holding a picture frame as he stood by the large bay windows, his back to me. I walked meekly to the plush seat opposite to the desk, feeling like an idiot as I waited for him to notice me.

“What a lovely picture.” Said the President, eyes not leaving the frame. He observes it for a few more moments before turning to me. He gestured to the seat in front of him.

“Please have a seat.” He looks around the room, at the antique china and the sketches that I had assimilated throughout the years in frames littered around the walls. “It’s been so long since I’ve been here.”

My head bobs up and down, a tight smile on my face. “As always sir, District 4 is honored to have you visit us.”

He straightens his posture and assesses me, at close inspection I realize he looks much older compared to when I last saw him, his surgeries, that was in fact supposed to make him more appealing did him poorly, coupled with the aging body, the man started resembling a dehydrated snake more and more.

I noted the aura around him gave off an expertly hidden unease, fear even.

“Indeed.”

Black beady eyes cut deep into my soul, peeling back every layer of who I am, He’s cold and unforgiving as he dissects every atom of emotion he could find on my face.

At last he puts down the picture, making it face me. I don’t look at it, in fear of what it may contain.

“Miss Ulysses, you have been such a valuable asset to the Capitol. Your charm and influence ensnares people even long after you have finished your games.” The way he says this doesn’t sit well with me, as if he was mocking me.

“With so many connections, inside and outside of your District. Is it safe to assume you have been kept up to date with the ah, how shall I say this? Disturbances around Panem.”

Cold sweat starts forming around my neck as I try my hardest to compose myself. “I can’t say I have sir.”

“Well, let me enlighten you then.” He leans on the table, hands in front of him as he says in a serious voice. “The Districts have been staging riots ever since the 74th Games, led by a certain District I know you are familiar with.”

“I – “

“Silence girl, you shall only speak if I tell you to.” He snaps. “Given 4’s history as one of the Districts to first join the rebellion, I want you to be honest with me, has there been any happenings here that pertain to what has transpired during the 74th games?”

I steel myself. “No sir.”

“Oh? Tell me Thalia” he starts. “You have always been my most favorite victor in your District. Obedient, meek, and loyal.”

He gives me a once over. “You are loyal, aren’t you?

Yes, but not to you.

“Of course, Mr. President.” I say through gritted teeth.

“Then I can rely on you to tell me if there are any activities that should be brought to my attention?”

He stands up, dusting off imaginary dirt from his velvet red suit. I take it as a sign for me to stand as well.

“Yes, sir. You can depend on me.” the sentence almost making me gag.

“Good.” He picks up the picture again and rounds the desk, coming to stand behind me, shoving the frame into my hands. I catch a whiff of the scent of blood and roses as he softly pushes my head down for me to stare into an image of me, Annie and Finnick from a few years ago.

I was around twenty, a wide smile on my face with Finnick’s hand at my waist, his megawatt smile on display while Annie’s brown hair gleams in the afternoon light, her arm clinging to my right side. It was taken on the day of my twentieth birthday.

Little did I know the that in the following months, it would be the last time I would see her smile brightly without a shadow of incoherence on her face for a long time.

“You already failed me once, try not to do it again, my dear.”

The door closes behind him as I hear muffled voices in the living room then the front door is closed. A growl of an engine being turned on is heard then speeding off.

Tears started streaming down my face, as I gripped the sides of the frame, my knuckles turning white at the pressure.

* * *

“They’re sloppy.” Risha says beside me. The girl had her auburn locks in a high ponytail, lips set in a thin line as her green-eyes, very distinctive of the District 4 residents, observe the town’s folk around the room.

The bunker was old and smelled of dust, the majority of the lights were busted and what’s left of them were dim and barely usable. Today we were training the age group between fifteen to twenty-five. It wasn’t hard considering that half were still at the Academy while the rest were still young or newly graduated. A brunette was monitoring the sparring sessions along with one of the instructors.

Me and Risha were at the back watching the chaos unfold as a bunch of the teenagers made asses out of themselves trying to outdo the other. Juvenile arrogance at its finest.

“The boy over there?” I pointed to one who was sharpening a long blade by the corner. “Almost stabbed himself in the eye, trying to impress the girl he liked. He’s been sulking there ever since.”

“Huh?” the redhead shifted her attention to the left. “I wanted to see that.”

She takes a seat beside me and grabs my sandwich. “Did you make this?”

“Yes..?” I said slowly. She takes a huge chunk and moans at the taste. “This is amazing! “

My heart bubbles with pride, as I watch her devour the snack with such vigor.

“Thanks, it’s marinated salmon with a dressing I made myself, you like?”

“Do I ever! I always knew there was a use to you than just being a depressed bitch.”

“And you aren’t? gimme that.” I playfully make a grab at the sandwich which she cradles closer to herself like a child. “No!”

Risha was one of the victors me and Finnick mentored together. We were lucky that her charm was enough to attract a lot of sponsors without us having to play nice with many of them. She made it two weeks before she won. It was her against District 5.

Risha was always on the athletic side, doing manual labor for work to support her elderly mother and father. Much like the rest us, she was forced to be a puppet of the Capitol, parroting only stellar reviews of her stay and the generosity she would receive from them. She was nice, almost Johanna-esque at times. I prided myself in thinking I was one of the few people she respected if not liked.

“Are you still meeting Annie later?”

She asks while finishing up the rest of the sandwich. Wiping the sauce on her pant-leg. We hop off our chairs and file out one by one, making sure to not cause any suspicion. I spot Wilbur sparring with a senior from the Academy, his moves are mediocre at best but he’s trying.

Despite his “friendliness” from a week ago, He’s been avoiding me since I returned the pearl. I mean Wilbur was gracious about it and didn’t yell at me but his feelings were still hurt. Finnick wasn’t too happy about it though, a scowl on his face as I explained to him what occurred at the beach.

“Yeah, we’re going to buy the cloth for her dress.” I answer. “She’s very excited.”

We go through a narrow door, the ceiling so low if you weren’t careful one could hit their head. It’s no help that cobwebs and big spiders were all over the place. I shudder at the memory of a really big, bulbous one falling right on my face the first time I went here.

“She deserves a little happiness, you know after what she went through.”

We nod to the barkeep, a portly man with a thin line of a mustache above his lip. He returned the gesture and turned to serve some of the patrons.

“Yeah, she’s very much in love with Rhett. I’ve never seen her so happy before.” I say honestly, thinking about the happy couple. Annie met Rhett when they were both still studying at the Academy. He was always so gentle with her and their relationship so wholesome, if I didn’t have my own boy I think I’d be jealous of her.

“And you do to.” She says casually.

I purse my lips. “You and me, you mean but alas our life’s a bit complicated, don’t you think?”

“True about that one, where’s she anyway? I want to express my elation and whatnot.” There was such ease in her steps, hands cradling her head from behind as we avoided the oncoming crowd.

“You mean, Congratulations?” I laugh. She gives me a cheeky smile. We enter the market place, the smells and sound of vendors and their wares assaulting our senses. I spot Nerissa and Reed by their stand. The older woman nudges her daughter who looks at me with a toothy grin.

“Are you still on with the bridal party and everything?”’

“Yep, maid of honor and bride’s personal helper at your service.”

She nods before hesitating. “Listen, are you still going on as m – “

I point to a head of brown hair in a pretty white blouse holding hands with a tall, lanky man. They were talking among themselves as the townsfolk were all looking over at them. Annie Cresta had an odd smile on her face, laughing at the birds huddled together by the road, picking on some fish guts.

“Hello, Annie.” I greet, her face morphs into confusion then is replaced by a look of wide-eyed recognition. “Hello, Thalia.”

There’s a dreamy edge to her voice. I remember the liveliness of her past self and this tugs at my heart. I turn to Rhett, his gaze never leaving the girl. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how was your errand?”

“Fine, we covered some good ground today.”

“Annie.” Risha greets. “Congratulations on your wedding by the way.”

Annie returns her smile and turns to her Fiancee’ “I think, I’ll be fine now.”

She kisses him on the cheek and a dopey smile comes over his face. I reach over to grab her hand and she holds it tight. Squeezing my hand five times.

“You take care of her.” He reminds. “Are you heading back to Victor’s Village?” he said to Risha.

“Yeah, you going home?” she nods. With one final look at Annie he leaves with Risha.

We make our way to the town, taking the far route instead of the Square. Annie doesn’t mind she’s happily following were I lead. When we arrive at a small cloth shop, the lady behind the counter eyes us over a rack.

We head on over to the white’s, looking through lace, satin, silk, velvet, tulle before she decides on a flowy fabric that looked like it floated every time she moved. The woman spoke towards Annie in a kind voice, making me appreciate her effort towards my friend. By the end of the excursion, our hands were heavy with cloth, pearls and threads.

I could tell she was walking on air, the excited gleam never leaving her eyes.

I’ve known Annie long. At first, she was one of Finnick’s many admirers, giggling after him or sending him gifts like flowers but as time went by she outgrew it, that and because he straight up told her he wasn’t interested but she took it all in stride.

The brunette often joined us in the sand after school while I was training him. It shocked me at how unlike she was to her stuck-up parents.

She didn’t raise her nose up in the air or looked at you with disinterest as if you were nothing more than a speck in their shiny, capitol shoes. Annie had a sense of humour, not afraid to laugh at herself and had the biggest heart.

When I first started my nightmares, it was a few months after the games. Grandma and Finnick didn’t know how to handle me but she stayed with me even at my worst. I would see things that weren’t there and she’d pull me back, even defended me from the few who called me a murderer, those people were usually Hozier’s friends and family. They had a right but Annie didn’t stand for it. She’d march right up to them and tell them to leave me alone.

She’s one of the few I’d do anything for.

After what happened to her during the games, I vowed that she would always have me in her corner even if her asshole parents were out of the picture.

There’s not much of a difference between us, we were both chosen for something we didn’t want, dysfunctional families that couldn’t handle us and most importantly, we won our games the same way.

Annie was just a normal girl wanting to survive the first eighteen years of her life and the Capitol had to ruin it for her. We weave across the many people, avoiding mass gatherings as much as we can. As we were passing by an animal vendor, she squeezes my hand five times. I look at her. For a while I catch a glimpse of the old Annie, full of life and with the biggest personality imaginable.

“How are you and Finnick?” she asks me.

“We’re fine, there’s a lot going on right now.”

“When is he coming back?”

I take a moment to gather my thoughts. “He left around…” counting the days with my fingers. “Around two days ago. He’ll be back tonight.”

_Just in time for the Quarter Quell announcement._

There’s a voice nagging at me. I ignore it.

“Good, good.” She drags me over to an ice cream parlor and we eat under the hot sun by the sidewalk. It reminded me greatly of the summers in 4 when we were still children. It feels normal, like two friends hanging out to have some ice cream only that one is a barely functioning while the other is out of it entirely. Were an odd pair but we stick together.

We spend the entire afternoon lounging like cats under the sun. Our chatter mixing in with the commotion of the busy streetside, sometimes Annie speaks of things that aren’t there but I indulge her happily. Her smile is so beautiful just like the setting sun around us. I pull her over to the space between the entrance of the beach, there is a partition between two palm trees that give a view of the ocean as the sun dipped under the water.

Annie’s hand doesn’t leave mine as we take in the beautiful show put out by nature. I feel light and happy. I see children play in the water, their silhouette making a contrast to the bright red of the sun.

After a minute of basking in the purple-pink colors, it’s time to head home. We walk past the empty house of Mags Flannagan, my old mentor. She died a few years ago. It was swift and in her sleep and I was thankful she didn’t suffer much but I kept crying throughout her funeral.

I miss her every day. The songs she taught me, all the survival and lessons. She was the one who stepped up for us when Grandma died and I’m forever thankful for her. For everything she had done to raise us.

When we reach Annie’s house, the light is on. We look at one another and I put her behind me as we approached the cobblestone walkway leading up to the white front door. I grab unto the dagger inside my coat, I unsheathe the cover and feel the blade as I run my thumb along the sharp edge.

“Annie, whatever come out from there, you’re going to run okay?” She nods vigorously but clings to my free arm.

I hear footsteps approaching the door and with the slight creak of the door, I throw the dagger, the person behind it getting grazed lightly on the cheek.

“What in gods name are you doing girl.” came the voice of Harvey Cresta. He stood tall on the steps of the house, a light line on his cheek that oozed a thin line of red.

The man preened with a self-important air to him. Everyone knew he was squeamish to anything that dabbled on bodily harm or blood. He was just too proud to show it to his daughter whom he has been alienating since she came back.

“Oh, it’s you.” I say blandly. My hazel eyes rolling. He doesn’t take this kindly. “How disrespectful.” He tuts. I wish I went for his throat.

“Dad?” squeaked his daughter behind me.

“Annie, I see you still keep this…girl’s company?”

I furrow my brows, ready to throw hands with a sixty-year-old man if need be.

“Mr. Cresta, what brings you here?” I say trying to block him form Annie’s vision.

“I’m here to speak with my daughter.” He says then eyes her behind me. “Alone.”

Annie’s hold tightens around my wrist. “I don’t think she’s in the mood to speak with you right now.”

“Nonsense, I’m her father. Back straight girl what are you a human or a weed?” he addresses her behind me. I feel my anger spike.

“Mr. Cresta.” I deadpanned. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t talk to her like that.” I spat. He looks condescendingly at me. “I’ll talk to her, any way I want. She’s my daughter.”

The feeling to protect this girl behind me increases ten-fold. “That doesn’t mean you get to speak to her like that.”

“And who are you to order me around?” I don’t say anything. He nods his fat chin smugly. He looks at Annie who stares at him with a blank expression.

“I hear you have consented to marry the Salmon vendor.” He starts, the man obnoxiously snorts, looping his fingers on the front of his belt buckle. Annie continues to stare at him clearly unimpressed.

“Your mother and I have given you enough freedom. Just like you asked, we left you alone but marriage to this…boy? Sweetheart think about it. You’re only 23.” He makes a move to go to her but I slap his arm away.

“Don’t touch her.” I spat. Anger flashes in his vindictive eyes but before he could spew out his poison, Annie says in a quiet voice.

“Who are you to tell me that?”

We both turn to her, eyes wide. “Who are you to speak to me, _to speak to my friends like that._ ” There’s a fire in her eyes that burns brightly behind the magnificent green. “You told me I was a crazy _bitch_ right after I came home.”

She starts to go red, her eyes dangerous and focused. “You and mom never came to visit me, when I asked you to come over. You haven’t called me your daughter in three years and now you act like you can decide what I do with my life?”

She starts to hyperventilate, jabbing a finger at her father’s chest, “You don’t call the shots anymore, Dad. This is my life and you can go tell Mom that she should just stop sending her gods-awful pastries, Rhett hates them.”

“I am your father and you will respect me.” he bellows. I see the blinds beside her house open as nosy neighbors see what the commotion is all about.

“Go away.” Comes her broken whisper, hands coming to her ears. “Go away.”

“An – “

“She said go away, gods are you deaf?!” I put an arm around her shoulder and lead her inside as the onset of a panic attack happens. I close the door on an open-mouthed Harvey Cresta.

“Annie? You’re fine everything is alright.” I say rubbing her back she continues to hold her hands over her ears and repeats nonsensical words that I don’t understand. I stay with her, waiting out the storm. Her moment lasts half an hour.

The sun was properly set by now and the lights were slowly being turned on. I hand her a pillow which she uses the tips to wrap and unwrap around her finger, the soft material puffing and un-puffing at her actions. I lead her over to the kitchen table, right in front of the view of the kitchen. She stares blankly at the wall, her hand not leaving the pillow.

I start fixing her some dinner. The fridge is always stocked with some food I’d bring her to last the week. I didn’t trust her around sharp objects or anything related to it. The loud sounds of pots and pans tend to set her off so we had to remove that as well. I invited her to come eat with us but she said she’d rather have some of her dignity left and be independent in at least one thing in her life.

I find a cold seafood pasta and run the microwave to heat it up. When I open the faucet to wash the dishes, the strength of the current shocks me. I reel back almost jumping a mile high. I feel my hands start to tremble. The sound of the water putting me back to a place I don’t want to return to.

No. _There’s nothing right now that can hurt me._

_There’s nothing right now that can hurt me_

_There’s nothing right now that can hurt me_

I repeat the same thing over and over again controlling my breaths. I feel my mind pulling me back but I fight against it. Anchoring my body to the reality.

Annie needs me, I can’t do this now.

_“ – 63 rd Hunger Games. Thalia Ulysses.”_

The voice if Templeman’s annoying tone rings through my ears. I start going numb, I start scratching my arm but to no avail I continue to spiral. I turn on the water to its highest course and submerge my entire hand, hoping to get a feeling.

Slowly my consciousness returns and I pull my arm hurriedly out the water, I looked over Annie and find her still playing with the pillow. Unaware of my little moment. She looks fine compared to earlier, she mumbles something under her breath that I don’t hear.

I slowly approached her, making sure the plate doesn’t make a sound when it hits the polished table. I take a seat opposite her waiting for her to take a bite of something she asks in a faraway voice.

“Did my father come to tell me to not marry Rhett, real or not real?”

I nod playing with the ends of my dress. “Real.”

“Did he yell at you and call you names?”

“Real”

“I’m completely safe from the games and nothing can hurt me?” she says this with a crack to her voice. I tentatively reach over for her hand. “Absolutely, undoubtingly real.” My calloused palm a contrast to her velvet-smooth ones.

She gives me a watery smile, eyes going blank again and playing with the cloth. There’s more color to her face now. She starts humming a strange song I had never heard before. At this moment I feel the full weight of what being a mentor entails, heavy as bricks behind me, making my shoulders lurch forwards to carry it.

You and your tribute will always have a connection. You were keeping them alive when they fought for survival in the arena, they trusted you to send them what they needed. You were the last people to see them whole right before they change completely. In a way you’re responsible for what happened to them.

That kind of life-changing thing burns a connection between your souls.

I hear the ominous chime of the Grandfather clock from the living room, it’s chilling, as it reminds me to go home before its completely dark. I feel exhausted but watch as the girl I see as a sister makes small bites of her meal. She has a weird habit of lining up all the seafood to one side and eating the buttered spaghetti alone.

We stay in silence, her playing with the stringy dough while I try to focus my attention on the occasional flickering of light of the lamppost. My hands tap at the table in a pattern, if Annie was disturbed she didn’t say it.

“Why do you always take care of me?” she says after a period.

“Because you’re my tribute – “

“There’s got to be more than that, you just don’t go play hero with any random tribute.” Her head tilts to the side. “What’s the reason?”

I don’t know what to say, do I say pity? No, it’s something more than just pity. There’s an understanding; if my life had gone one or two ways, I’m sure we would be near the same person.

“You’re my friend Annie, always have been, always will be.” that’s all I say. She doesn’t ask for more. Steel scrapes over the porcelain plate.

Annie busies herself staring out the window. When I made sure all her things are back in place, I tell her I’m leaving, she continues to draw spirals on the dust covered glass.

My house was a short walk from Annie’s, right up across the street. Unease starts to pool in my chest as I pass the dark path. Growls of an animal shuffling through trash and the occasional hooting of owls are my only companions on my walk.

“Nothing can hurt me, Nothing can hurt me, Nothing can hurt me.” I repeat the same mantra over and over again until I’m home. As soon as I turn the knob my fingers search for the light switch, bathing everything in a bright white.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I have resigned to my fate of never being able to function in darkness. There’s nothing I could so about it anymore. I feel my muscles stretch and protest, my mind buzzing with activity.

_There’s more to do, I wasn’t able to do my chores today. Yes, I need my broom._ The numbness sets in again, I feel my mind reel me back. I don’t try to get out. It’s just me.

I feel like I’m floating. There’s nothing here that can hurt me.

I scrub and sweep all night, the sound of me moving objects go well into the ungodly hours. I’m breathless and sweating with effort when I make one final sweep. The house is clean, the tiles gleam. The cupboards and china shinning with the amount of polish and cleaner.

My mind swirls _wait why was I doing this again?_ my eyes feel heavy and I want nothing more than to sleep. The sun’s already peeking from the east.

I make myself a cup of coffee, the smell instantly waking me up.

“Ouch.” Heat from the cup makes me pull back my sensitive hand, birds chirp in the background singing their happy song, greeting any poor soul awake at this hour a good morning. I slurped my coffee loudly, not caring if the hot water burnt my tongue. Worst case scenario, I’ll have a talking impediment for a few days.

Once I had gathered my bearings, I noticed that Finnick had not arrived. An ugly feeling started swirling I my belly. Where was he? Did something happen to him? Is he alright?

There’s a nagging voice in my ear. I ignore it.

President Snow’s address wouldn’t be until eleven a.m. maybe he just got stopped somewhere, trains can breakdown, lose gas or…Crash.

I shake my head, the movement making me dizzy. Some days my moments are stronger than others, it gets especially bad when it gets close to the Games. I find myself more disoriented and confused, the sound of the anthem makes me twitchy and restless, making it hard to watch through the games when you’re a mentor. I find a way though, I always do.

The crippling feeling of dread, of someone out to get you keeps me up at night but there are times when Finnick gets them as well and we just sit next to each other looking at the stars that glitter across our home. 

I spot a silhouette turn the corner and walk up to the porch. Fear spears through me, potent and heavy. Snow’s out to get me, he’s finally going to kill me.

My hand scrambles for a knife, my heart thumping almost out of my chest. I force my breathing down.

There’s a creak of a door and a familiar voice calls. “Thal? You in here?”

I drop the knife, the heaviness of my body nearly making me fall flat on my face, the air feels warmer now despite the shaking of my hands. I try to fix the unruly nest, running my fingers through it like a comb. When Finnick comes into view, he’s dressed in casual white shirt and faded jeans. His shell necklace a stark contrast to the white if his v-neck, his hair mussed, the curls sticking out in odd directions.

He’s handsome as always.

“Welcome back.” I stutter, thankful that he didn’t witness the pitiful sight I was when he came in. The man leans on the door, looking at my manic actions. I pour some coffee into a cup, the water spilling as I hand it to him, he frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“You look like death.”

“When do I don’t?”

The slanting of his lip deepens, he takes a sip of the coffee, eyeing me over the rim of the cup. “Are you alright?”

“Absolutely.” The end coming off a bit too pitchy. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s much to do.”

The house is silent on these days, both of us lost in our own worlds. It doesn’t help that a new gimmick will be placed on this year’s games. The Quarter Quell was a 25-year anniversary in remembrance to the failed coup of the dark days. This makes the Capitol make more effort to make the games ruthless and bloody than it already is. What happens in the Arena is the stuff of nightmares.

A chill runs up my spine just thinking about the monstrosity they have decided on this year. The poor kids I have to send off to die. Life taken away for sport, as if we were nothing more than animals, doing anything for their entertainment.

What makes us so different than those pompous peacocks, why are our lives more expendable than theirs? What made them so special?

I play with the end of my jumper while waiting for the announcement to come on, Finnick stays on the settee preferring to tie and untie a piece of rope instead. The static turns into the Anthem, I grab unto the couch, my nails digging into the mahogany base, the polish filling up the space between my nails and flesh.

My knees bounce and down, I crack my knuckles hoping the action would help. I watch Finnick from the corner of my eyes, he’s the picture of calm as he ties and unties the rope though his mouth is set in a frown. The shaking of my feet is visible as I totter towards him, I remove the rope from his shaky hands. He looks up at me as I step between his legs.

For all the years I’ve been around this man I still find myself frozen at his stare, one so full of love. He looks at me like I’m worth something, as if I’m more than just a broken girl trying to survive life. There are times when I wish we would just drop dead so we won’t have to suffer anymore but now, having Finnick look at me this way, makes me thankful we were alive, that we get to be with each other despite everything.

I crawl into his lap, burrowing myself under his strong chin, my legs thrown over his lap while he holds me close to his chest. This is my happy place, where I belong. He buries his face in my messy curls, inhaling the scent of my hair, finding comfort in me as well.

Finnick smoothens the knots in my mane, kissing my hairline. _We’re okay, nothing can hurt us._

President Snow goes on to tell us what happened in the previous Quarter Quells. “On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it.”

“On the fiftieth anniversary,” the president continues, “as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes.”

“And now we honor our third Quarter Quell,” says the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as he opens the lid. We can see the tidy, upright rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president removes an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He runs his finger under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

Time suspends, there’s a ringing in my ear as the rest of the broadcast turns to static, at least that’s what I hear, I jumped out of my seat as everything spun around me. This can’t be right, no…no…No…

The world kept spinning on its axis, I trip over my own feet grabbing a table and try to remain upright. There’s an echoed shouting in the distance before I realize it’s me, knees turning into jelly as I back away to the corner of the room, sniveling and crying. I hit the cold wall harshly nearly knocking the air out of me. The killing, the blood, the rain. I scratch at my skin, I feel the wetness cling to me, all I see is the rubble, a wasteland with nothing but children trying to survive armed with weapons.

There’s a shadow coming towards me, all I could make out is blonde hair, the world is blurry but then I screech pulling away as I realized it’s the bleeding face of Hozier Basse, a boy I killed over ten years ago. His teeth gleam, yellowed with the metallic rust of blood, I squirm covering my head, I had no weapon he’s going to kill me.

“Thalia!” his voice resembles that of Finnick, it makes me scream louder, he forces me to look at him and I recognize those eyes right away. I slump into his chest.

“I can’t go back, I can’t go back.” I mumble over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it, I think I'll just meld mockingjay in this book as well, maybe label it with a date or something hahah anyways hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BUT THIS IS NOT EDITED

**“It was said that the Gods favored fools because they were entertaining to watch”**

**-N.K. Jemisin, The Killing Moon**

* * *

To be perfectly honest the rain had always scared me, even back when I was a child. The smashing of the waves against rocks under the grand house we had once owned by the seaside; now reduced to a rickety beach house by the local kids, along with it brought the howling of wind that banged on the thick windows, no one dared to head out when nature decided to bestow its fury on us. We were safer inside, drinking broth or singing folk songs by the fire as mothers cradled their scared children on their lap. Rain had always been a bad omen, floods, north winds, destroyed property, no new catch, so it made me angry at the fact that it didn’t rain on Reaping day, as if it was mocking us.

Nothing fitted the storm to arrive other than the day two people were chosen to either kill or be killed. If someone were to die at least do it with respect, let everyone know it’s a bad day. Let the wind howl, let the tide rise for Triton’s sake! Instead we get a bright sunny day with no dark clouds in sight.

I stared out into the large windows, peacekeepers were rounding up the tributes, a pair approaching a house and escorting them out like a bunch of criminals, is that what Snow us as now? In a way we were, we got out of the death trap they had prepared for us and lived a life in wealth. We were a symbol of hope, escaping poverty to live in the grace of the Capitol, with us alive and breathing, we were a sign of rebellion, of a will to fight despite the odds.

Three harsh knocks are heard on my door. I heave in a sigh. It was much easier heading up a stage, at least you had the dignity to walk on your own as if you were a free person than having uniformed men come and escort you out like an animal.

“Thalia Ulysses, Year 63 victor?” the man asks behind his mask, I resist the urge to roll my eyes, they were probably briefed on who lived where. “Yes” I say, with no hint of fear in my voice.

“We’re here to collect you for the games, order 751 of the President for the 3rd Quarter Quell.”

I fix my white blouse and Mags seashell necklace on my neck, while the pearl barrette pulls back my hair. I curl my lip as he prattles on about the order of the Capitol. They pull grab me harshly on my shoulders, I shake their hold away, I don’t like being touched especially not by people who work for the man that ruined my life since I was twelve.

They look about ready to shoot me, hands already on the guns by their side but I know better, I’m a victor, they can’t touch me especially since I could be the one chosen to provide this year’s entertainment. Both of them flank my side, funny to think I woke up scared but at this moment all I felt was full of unadulterated anger, it coiled and simmered inside my gut. If someone were to hand me a spear, I wouldn’t think twice about running these men with it.

I join the parade of victors down the street, the males already being led up to the justice building. Finick is one of them. After the announcement, we couldn’t say a thing, both us too shocked. It saved us time though, instead of crying about it we spent our time training. Practicing our abilities to kill once again. At night we lie next to each other, sleep never finding us. We talk about life instead, all the good times and bad. The dreams we wished we had started. All the what ifs.

“We should have gotten married.” He whispers to me, our hand outstretched together as he examined how my mine looked so tiny compared to his, both of us entangled in sheets. “Forget what Snow wanted, we could’ve had kids by now.”

It’s a fantasy we had indulged in to keep us sane, we dream of rowdy children with brown eyes and sandy blonde hair with a winning loyalty of their father and the fierceness of their mother, children that can never be because of the greediness of men.

“A two- year- old and maybe in another year, a new one” I say dreamily, the soft thudding of his heart tempting me to sleep.

“Yeah, maybe a boy then a girl.” "A kiss to my forehead.

“They’d be so beautiful.” I whisper, a sad sniffle escaping my nose at imaginary children that would be forced to play in the games.

“If we were in another world, we could have had it all.”

Every moment counted, whether we trained or just held each other as long as we did something. I’ve not let go of my spear since the games, it’s a lifeline for me. it’s the only thing I know that can keep me alive, that was my edge from the other victors. I was relatively young at nearly two - decades worth of training paired with the unfathomable popularity of Finnick - and whether he was picked or not would be an asset to any of the tributes.

“Annie?” the shaking shoulders of a woman two steps in front of me caught my attention, I recognized Annie right away, her broken sobs louder than the sound of the Anthem being played at the Justice Building. The poor girl suddenly trips over and wince as the peacekeeper next to her digs a hand on her arm. I break away from my escort and excuse from the person in front of me

My arm comes around her and she slumps against me, soaking the shoulder of my blouse.

Risha turns to us, her hair in a tight braid, lips set, but pity paints her expression. I nod at her when she returns. I guide my friend up the steps, two red ropes corral the people away from a carpet. The townsfolk look a mix between pity and relief, since their children will not be among those to die.

I spot Rhett in his finest shirt, his jaw set as he looks on at Annie who was weeping on my shoulder, they were so close to getting married, so close to what happiness our kind of life afforded to us. It could have been me and Finnick, at the thought of him, my eyes scanning their side of the stage, he smiled at me with his perfect teeth but hidden underneath it was a barely controlled rage as he watched peacekeepers manhandle me up.

_Twenty-five years old and they want to send me back into the game, what a joke._

Our escort has taken up her place next to the Mayor, her head ducked down while idly chatting. Silence falls upon the halls when the last tribute, an elderly man who rarely comes out of his house, joins the line.

“WELCOME,” Richette starts, her pastel pink wig frizzy with the humid air. “Welcome everyone, It’s an honor to be here, in the beautiful District 4.”

Her bright smile was not returned by any of the people present. She begins her usual spiel about The Hunger Games and its significance to our history. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Her sharp voice is the only sound breaking the deafening silence, the townsfolk look on with expressions of horror as the video of District 13 is repeated on the screen.

Talbot is at the front, arms around his daughter and wife, Reed is red with the tears she tries to hold in, her mother wringing a red piece of cloth in her hands. Despite Reed being too young to be reaped, I know she understands what it meant. 

There are four female tributes and five of the males, my chances of being reaped are one out of three, small as it may seem, I cling to the hope that it wouldn’t be me.

_Whoever has the highest power up there, for once, just let's the odds be in my favor._

I continue to rub Annie’s back Her parents are in the back of the room. Annie always had a tumultuous relationship with them, even if they disagreed in many things, they still loved her in their own twisted way, it’s evident in the despair clouding Harvey’s face and Trina, his wife’s red-rimmed eyes.

“As always ladies first.”

My gaze snaps back at the escort as Richette approaches the fish bowl in front of us. She spins her hand on the slips of paper before reaching in and pulling out a name. Bile rushes up my throat.

The Justice building is eerily quiet, only the rustling of paper being magnified by the silence is heard.

“The female tribute for this year’s games is…” she paused for effect. “Annie Cresta.”

I nearly fainted, a big weight being lifted off my shoulders. It wasn’t me, I don’t have to kill, I don’t have to run for my life. Tears of joy almost slip out as I try to control elated laughter. I was safe.

“NO!” The girl in my arms lurches forward and I am awoken from my happy stupor, the victor’s name finally sinking in, _Annie Cresta,_ Annie was chosen. I watch as desperate sobs wrack her body, her whole demeanor becoming crazed with fear, she burrows herself into my side, the whole plaza looking at us with pity. I didn’t know what to say, and _it will be okay_ or _your fine_ wouldn’t suffice at all. The only thing I could say to her now that was appropriate would be “ _Condolence.”_

She doesn’t make a move to join Richette at the podium, Annie just cries. I see peacekeepers come closer to pull her away from me.

They can’t t do this to her, they just can’t! There must be something I could do, she’ll die in there. Annie’s nails dig into my arm as she bawls louder.

The peacekeepers came closer, batons ready if she could resist. I make a split-second decision, and despite my own fear I manage to speak in a controlled, bright voice.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

“What was that dear?” Richette asked, her face completely dumbfounded while the onlookers were calm, as if they expected that this would happen.

“I volunteer as tribute.” I say clearly, my careful mask in place, the biggest smile on my face.

“Well, I see...” Richette cleared her throat, and for a second I almost thought she was about to cry. “Our female tribute for District 4 is Miss Thalia Ulysses.”

I try to pull my friend’s arms away from me but she held on tighter while the peacekeepers were none too happy with the hold-up.

“Don’t go, don’t go please.” cries Annie.

Risha helps me pull her away as she apologizes over and over again.

“Take care of her. Keep her alive…please” I tell Risha.

I gather my thoughts, unbelieving of what I had just done. Forcing a smile on my face, I make my way to the right side of my long-time co-worker. She nods at me, her expression tight.

“Now for the men.”

I wait with baited breath as she picks a slip of paper, _not Finnick, not Finnick, not Finnick_

There isn’t any word to describe what I felt at that moment, fear, anger, relief? I don’t know but my whole world shattered when she loudly declared.

“Finnick Odair.”

He’s unfazed, even gives the crowd a wave, stepping lightly towards us. His sea – green hues bore into mine for a second before returning to his adoring crowd.

“There you have it ladies and gentlemen, the tributes for the 75th Hunger Games and the 3rd Quarter Quell. Thalia Ulysses and Finnick Odair.” She chirps. “Don’t be shy now, shake hands.”

We turn to each other, fake smiles masking our fear and anger. I reach out my hand and he holds it tightly, a sob almost escapes my lips when he pulls me close, sneakily kissing my forehead in the process.

Richette makes a cooing noise, in order not to have any suspicion of the real nature of our relationship, I make an over- girly-laugh, pulling away and ruffling his hair. As if we were happy, like we weren’t expected to murder each other.

We play it up for the cameras, smiling and waving like idiots.

They quickly pull us into separate rooms inside the building. One of the peacekeepers push me a bit too hard for my liking.

“Five minutes” barks the peacekeeper. I open my mouth to bite back but he’s out of the room in a second.

As soon as he leaves, Risha bursts into the room, Annie in tow. “I’m coming with you.”

“No”

“What do you mean, No?” her expression sours. “You’re going to need a mentor – “

“ – no. Finnick and I are old enough to be on our own.”

“What about sponsors? How are you going to survive there?”

“Risha, do you doubt our adoring fans that wouldn’t hesitate to throw money at us?” she frowns, still unconvinced. “Besides, I need you here to keep watch of everything.”

I look at Annie who cries into her hands, Risha gives a meaningful nod. I then switch my attention to the young woman. “I’ll be okay, Annie. I’ll come home just in time for your wedding.” I coo.

She suddenly grabs my hands, surprising strength in her usual shaky hold, eyes serious and red. “One person only comes out of there alive, when it comes down to you and Finnick, what will you do?”

I splutter, not sure how to answer her. Just as I was about to, the doors are thrown open and both of them are rushed out, their footsteps fading out the hallway.

A family of three replaces them. Two little legs sliding down from Nerissa. Reed throws herself at my waist, squeezing me tight.

“We need to go.” They attempted to grab me, but before they could touch me I slapped it away.

“I can walk.”

With the scathing look I gave them, they thought it was best to leave me be. We pass by the front entrance where a car is waiting for us. There was no entourage like the first games, the train station remains guarded by more peacekeepers, when I step inside the car, a shiver runs up my spine, its unusually cold.

Finnick comes in after me, calm and collected despite two peacekeepers flanking his side. We walk together, my hands grazing his. Richette flounces around the room as we make it to the living room car.

As the train moved, the peacekeepers suddenly started running towards town, guns drawn. I plaster myself to the windows, trying to catch the situation going on but the town is covered by the lining of trees.

Fear pierces my gut _what’s going on?_ The others don’t seem to notice the commotion.

_Please don’t let them do anything stupid._

Faint sounds of gunshots can be heard from a distance. _No this can’t be happening._

“Something’s going on.” A lump in my throat. “We have to stop the train.”

Screams soon followed the firing of bullets. “Stop the train. STOP THE TRAIN!”

My body moves on auto-pilot as I run to the locked doors and try to open it despite the moving train. A commotion is heard behind me as I scratch at the door like a rabid cat. _They can’t do this, not yet, not yet._

Hands grab me from behind, a soothing voice calling out to me. my struggle is futile as the strength of this person overpowers mine but I don’t give up. Strangled sobs escape my mouth as my whole body shake, _I can’t control anything._

I head straight to my room, re-assessing all that had happened today. The shock of it finally wearing off and I find myself screaming into a pillow, the surface growing damp with my tears. Finnick doesn’t come to find me, I know he needs his time to process all that has happened.

Blood will drip from my hands again, lives will end because of me, the thought of it alone makes me rage again. I find myself in a fitful sleep, every time I close my eyes all I see is Hozier and Kino, with all the bodies of the remaining tributes that day floating in water as I stare into the sea of the dead from a slowly sinking round heap of sand.

“Thalia, dear. It’s dinner time.”

“Y..yes, I’ll be right out.” jolting up sweat, sticking to my clothes

The stylist had come in earlier to stuff some clothes in the closet by the side of my bed. Opal, with her bubblegum pink hair and the prep team tittering outside my door. Anger still fuels my body, so I pull on a pink crocheted sweater and tie up my hair.

The meal's subdued. So subdued, in fact, that there are long periods of silence relieved only by the removal of old dishes and presentation of new ones. A cold soup of pureed vegetables. Fish cakes with creamy lime paste. I catch myself glaring at a stuffed pidgeon, imagining President Snow.

I would love nothing more than to kill him with my own bare hands. The sound of utensils on a plate irks me, when Richette makes a slash sound with her knife, I lose it.

“Will you stop that!” I stand, all heads turn to me, Finnick stares at me, wide-eyed and mouth open.

“I beg your pardon.” The woman snaps.

“The sound, the knife on the plate, THAT!” I’m almost hysterical with anger as she makes another cut to her roast pigeon.

“Are you alright?” Ask Geronimo, another member of my prep team.

“No I am not alright, until Richette stops that infernal scratching – ” I said, my breath getting heavier.

“You’re being irrational –“

“I’m not being irrational! This is a perfectly acceptable reaction – stop that will you!” cradling my head trying to block out the sound of the utensils.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe imminent death?”

She drops her utensils and glares at me “It’s not my fault you wanted to play in the games again,” she says so calmly I want to scratch her eyes out. “You had a chance to let Crazy Cresta take her rightful place.”

“Do not call her that – “

“ – I’ll call her whatever I want because it’s the truth and you know it.” She makes a show of sipping her wine, “This is an excellent collection, don’t you think?”

She dismisses me nonchalantly but I don’t let up. “She would’ve died in there!”

“And it would’ve been a mercy, don’t you think it’s time she’s put out of her misery?”

My vision starts to go hazy, I throw my napkin on the table, pushing back the heavy chair with a thud. There was a small balcony at the end of the train just, the only place where I could watch the scenery while no one looked.

It takes me a few cars to get there but when I do I relax in the cool night air. It’s not dark, in fact bright solar powered lamps light the train tracks. It wasn’t Richette’s fault of my being back in the games, it was my choice. _Because you had nothing else to do,_ a voice in my head says.

It was either me or I let Annie die, at least I had a fighting chance. For her, it would be a miracle if she even made it past the initial blood bath. At least now, I can die knowing I did the right thing for once.

I grip the railing when I hear a familiar set of steps, follow me. The door opened with a flourish and the comforting scent of salt and sandalwood permeated the air. I relaxed knowing who it was.

“Look, before you lecture me about the way I behaved, I want you to know, she started it.”

“Hmmm..”

Finn leans on the railing next to me, watching the scenery pass by. Tomorrow we’d arrive at the Capitol but not as mentors, instead we’ll be tributes. There’s a tick to his jaw as I examined his handsome side-profile.

“Are you angry with me?”

“Hmmm..”

“Now you’re just spiting me.”

“Hmm..”

My lip tightens, there is a tense silence between us. I play with the end of my sweater unsure of what to say. There were a lot of things I still haven’t said to him and we clearly needed to talk about the elephant in the room.

“I know you are upset about me volunteering.” I start. “But there are just somethings that can’t happen Finn. It’ll forever be in my conscience if I just stand there and let them drag her away.”

He still continues to give me the silent treatment. I can’t stand it. “Finn, please say something.”

I beg, hands going over him and squeezing tight.

“What you did there was, stupid…and idiotic.” His pink lips are set in a line. “But needed, I understand as a friend why you did it but as…” he frowns not finding the right word. “ – whatever you call me, I’m furious. What were you thinking?”

His voice grave and calm, it makes me wish he’d just scream and berate me instead of having a sensible conversation. Finnick never held back his emotions in front of me, having him speak to me in a manner that doesn’t fit the situation makes me worried.

“I wanted to protect her – “

“ – by getting yourself killed.”

“What would you have me do then? Watch as they broadcast her painful death all over the country? Accept those Capitol fools’ fake condolences?”

“MAYBE!” Finally, he screams at me. “At least then you’d be safe!”

“Safe but you wouldn’t…what if you die Finn? I can’t imagine a life – “ I suppress a sob, the dam has broken and I cry once again. The dread is finally catching up to me, pulling me back and engulfing me in it’s cold embrace.

This is stupid, but I can’t stop. He doesn’t hold me, knowing that there were just times when I needed to figure out stuff on my own but that doesn’t stop the worry from escaping his face. I patted away the tears but more kept coming.

“For what it’s worth, I’d do anything to protect you, Thal. Anything.” He says this seriously. “And you know, I’d do the same for you.” I answer, it’s not an exaggeration. I may have promised to come home but Finnick always came first. Always.

“We’ll need allies, there’s already you and me. I don’t trust 1 or 2, especially 1.”

He nods, intelligent eyes sharp, forming a plan. “I have somebody but we’ll need to think it over.”

I raised my eyebrows but he doesn’t add anything more. We stand in comfortable silence before I admit it.

“I’m so scared Finn.”

“Me too.”

We wait until the moon is high and head inside the cart to sleep - or lack thereof. My door is the first room we encounter, he squeezes my shoulder when I step in.

“Would, would you like to come in?” biting my lip and looking anywhere but him. The darkness makes it hard to decipher his expression. His calloused hand comes up and cradles my face as he enters the room.

* * *

Before the sun rose, I found myself waiting by the breakfast table. Richette always woke up early compared to anyone in our team. She was gracious in accepting my apology despite the way I handled the situation last night. As we were passing the tunnel that would lead us to the Capitol, there was a flash of red, blood red. The hair on my arms rose up, the Mockingjay symbol.

It was a beautiful sunny day when we arrived. Photographers were everywhere, asking questions, looking for interviews until they were pushed back by several peacekeepers. A car immediately took us to the re-make center. My prep team, people I don’t care much for since my original team was replaced except for Geronimo who I’ve known since my first time here, are directed to a large backroom, hauling up the cases full of make-up and accessories. They worked in silence except for Geronimo who constantly had to dab his eyes, I had to comfort him multiple times because his sniffles were annoying the others.

It's interesting, though, seeing a Capitol citizen care about a victor. I still think all of that will be forgotten once the canon sounds, but it's something of a revelation that those in the Capitol feel anything at all about us. They certainly don't have a problem watching children murdered every year. But maybe they know too much about the victors, especially the ones who've been celebrities for ages, to forget we're human beings. It's more like watching your own friends die. By the end of it all, I’m cranky and red and was at the end of my nerves.

I nearly weep for joy when we stop for lunch. We are served smoked salmon on a bed of buttered greens, steamed jasmine rice in coconut milk. For dessert we have an array of fruit flavored crepe cakes,

“Finally!” One of the prep team exclaims. Willow, I think. “What is it?” I ask, and she digs into the salmon in earnest. “Oh, Thalia dear, are the hurricanes at 4 that bad?”

“What?” coughing into my napkin. “We weren’t able to get any supply of your delicious seafood in two months!”

The tips of my lips dip down, hidden behind the cloth. “Yes, the rainy season has been hard on us. Our fishermen had to stay off the water for a while.”

“I hope it’s all better now, my daughter just loves your District’s fish, she won’t eat without it.”

I laugh gaily. “You can expect that all operations are now back to normal.”

She seems palacated by this and goes on to take control of the conversation, gossiping about her neighbor’s party. Attendees were told to come in neon-inspired clothes, which she described as a fashion disaster and would not be caught dead in any brightly colored clothes until she died.

The entitlement is over-whelming but I can’t blame her for the way she is, maybe if I grew up in the kind of environment she did, I’ll worry about the stupidest things. While others were being mistreated and starved, I only had to worry about soirees and whether or not I’d be able to taste all the food at a party.

Opal arrived in a simple purple knee-length dress, her equally purple lips set in a sugary-sweet smile. Black tattoos painted the skin from her arm to her neck and minimal make-up except for the slight dusting of her cheeks in a gold shimmer.

“My first victor.” She kissed both my cheeks. I smell a hint of cigarette smoke on her mixed with citrusy perfume. “I very much missed you.”

“Hello, Opal.” She greets me as if we weren’t in the train together, then again she was always absent for meals and spent most of her time in the clothes cart. When I did see her, I was half-awake in my room as she stuffed clothes in the closet.

“I’ve been designing something very special since the announcement.” Her warm hands lead me to a room. The way she holds me softly reminds me of Mags touch, a sad smile on her face. “There were some quick changes to the original design but I wanted something to make you look unforgettable. To make them remember why you won that year.”

When the door swings open, I gasp. The dress was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. As I inspected closer, it just wasn’t a dress, _it was my dress._ A much more mature version of the one I wore thirteen years ago, made in Gold. The fabric was sequined with shining beads reminding me of the sand, the first half was a tight, short dress with a plunging neckline and a skirt that dropped into a sheer sequined fabric at the bottom. The cloth pooled at the bottom, crumpling at edges like a net.

“I don’t know what to say.” I gurgle out. Opal smiles and pats my shoulder. “With this dress alone, you deserve to win, you will win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOPE YOU LIKE, PLEASE GIVE KUDOS OR COMMENTS IF YOU DO, MAKES ME REALLY HAPPY :>


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